


Time is the Longest Distance

by Beckers522



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: All they want is to be together again, Art, Aziraphale goes on a smiting spree, Aziraphale/Crowley First Kiss (Good Omens), BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Confused Crowley (Good Omens), Cover Art, Crowley gets trapped in Hell for a while, Digital Art, Discorporation (Good Omens), Eventual Happy Ending, First Kiss, Flaming Sword, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Love Confessions, M/M, Murder Mystery, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-01-29 17:53:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 102,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21414238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beckers522/pseuds/Beckers522
Summary: Six months had passed since the world hadn't ended and life was good. Life was more than good. It was more than nice. Life on Earth, here in his little corner of London, here with Crowley by his side was absolutely wonderful. Until the day that it wasn't. Until Aziraphale walked into Crowley's flat to find his best friend mysteriously discorporated with both Heaven and Hell staying silent on the matter. With Crowley trapped in Hell and Aziraphale unable to reach him, the pair set off to find their way back to each other. They will have to fight against Heaven, Hell, and Time itself to make their way back into each others arms once more.This is a full-length story based off the comic by the wonderfully talented Lei_sam. If you have not seen it yet, you need to go check it out. Link in the notes section.Updates on Tuesdays and Fridays until completed.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 379
Kudos: 535
Collections: Ineffable Collection - teabaq





	1. Title Page

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Everyone!
> 
> Some of you may know about this already, others may new to the scene. The wonderfully talented Lei_sam and I have partnered up for an Art Exchange!!! Several months ago, they posted an amazing comic, found here:
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/19926673/chapters/47182546
> 
> and had expressed interest in having someone write a fic to go along with it. Thus, our collaboration was born. Over the past month, Lei_sam has created some amazing artwork for my favorite fic I've written so far ("The Stars Walk Backward") in exchange for this full-length fic of their original comic. 
> 
> If you have not read the comic (entitled "The Ineffable Plan"), I highly suggest it. This story will be a retelling of the scenes already illustrated there plus many additional ones that deepen both the characters and the storyline. There will also be additional art added as we go along (again, by the fantastic Lei_sam).
> 
> Updates will be made on Tuesday and Friday of each week until completed. If you want to follow either of us on social media, here is where to go:
> 
> Lei_sam:
> 
> tumblr: https://lei-sam.tumblr.com  
AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lei_sam  
twitter: @Leisan24657341
> 
> I can also be found here:  
https://braver-stronger-smarter.tumblr.com/
> 
> Thanks for taking the time to check this story out. We hope you all enjoy!

_This is a full-length story based off the comic by the wonderfully talented Lei_sam. If you have not seen it yet, you need to go check it out._

_Updates on Tuesdays and Fridays until completed._

_Art by the amazing Lei_sam._


	2. Chapter 1

In his entire six-thousand-year existence on Earth, Aziraphale could not remember a single time where he ever had the desire to sleep. Not when he’d been trapped on the ark for forty days, not when the Black Death had ravaged all of Europe, not even during the Big Freeze of 1963, when all of London had been continuously covered by several feet of snow for almost three months. Not one single time in all of human history.

Except for last night.

It wasn’t that the angel really wanted the sleep. He certainly didn’t need it, and like always, there had been plenty for him to do to occupy his time. Aziraphale could have spent his evening reading one of the many books in his collection. The angel had tried for hours, but he’d been unable to fixate on any of the words on the pages in front of him. The second hand on the grandfather clock nearby seemed to echo around him in an almost deafening way. With each passing moment, the sound seemed to grow further and further apart, as if time itself was crawling to a halt. Maybe if he’d been able to fall asleep, the day wouldn’t have felt like such a waste.

Aziraphale had been present on Earth for six-thousand years. He had experienced time’s steady march for millennia and it had never gone by as slowly as it had the previous night. The angel had heard the saying “time is too slow for those who wait”, but he had never fully understood what that meant until he’d been forced to wait alone in his bookshop until ten minutes to seven on Friday evening. Then, and only then, had he permitted himself to finally head over to Crowley’s place for their first date.

The angel was absolutely giddy with nervous excitement as he bustled around his flat above the bookshop in an attempt to get ready. He’d been obsessing since the previous afternoon when the subject came up in one of their many casual conversations sitting on a bench in St. James’ Park.

It all started with a group of girls sitting several feet away from them on the next bench down. They were all sitting side by side, the two on the ends huddled around the one in the middle and, more specifically, the mobile phone in her hand. Normally, Aziraphale wouldn’t have even noticed them, but they were being unusually loud, giggling and pointing at the small device, chatting among themselves in a volume that was loud enough to be distracting, but not quite loud enough for the angel to decipher what was so interesting they had to try and ruin his perfectly good afternoon.

“Honestly,” Aziraphale huffed after the fourth time their laughter cut into the middle of his conversation with Crowley. The angel glanced over at the trio, shooting them a look of heavy disapproval that the girls promptly ignored. “Whatever could be so amusing on that infernal device? Don’t they have anything better to do with their time?”

The demon beside him chuckled, leaning back to glance over his shoulder. “My money’s on some sort of dating app,” he mused, turning back to look at Aziraphale through a pair of dark sunglasses. “Girls like them are the prime demographic for that sort of thing. Young, pretty, with enough free time on their hands to spend a weekday afternoon to flip through dozens and dozens of profile pictures for the fun of it.”

Aziraphale’s brow furrowed. Dating app? Profile pictures? Whatever was Crowley talking about?

Sensing his companion’s confusion, Crowley leaned back, lounging against the wooden bench, limbs spread out, hand gesturing wildly in the direction of the three young women. “It’s how young people these days find someone to court,” the demon explained, slipping into a vocabulary Aziraphale was more familiar with. “You know how their phones act like mini computers now?”

Slowly, the angel nodded his head. He didn’t understand it all, not really, but he and Crowley had discussed this sort of thing before, so Aziraphale at least had some sort of awareness of the new technology.

“Right,” the demon continued. “So, one of the things they can do on their phones is go onto a website where people create these…mini biographies of themselves called profiles. They can read through the profiles and pick the ones they like. If two people pick each other, they can start talking to one another and sometimes that leads to a date.”

Aziraphale nodded. He supposed that made sense. To him, it didn’t seem like a very genuine way to meet someone special, but it could have been worse. In some sort of construed way, it was similar to a blind date. Instead of other people setting the couple up, using this…’dating app’ allowed the individuals to set themselves up.

Strange, but he supposed it worked. As long as the relationship was genuine after the initial meeting, Aziraphale guessed it didn’t matter all that much how the couple met.

“Does using the dating app always involve so much giggling?” the angel asked, glancing past Crowley’s head over towards the girls once more just as one of them let out a shriek that he assumed must be from excitement. Either that or she had just seen some sort of giant insect or perhaps a normal sized mouse.

Crowley snorted. “Most definitely not.” His answer was so immediate, it took Aziraphale by surprise. “There’s a one-hundred and ten percent chance those girls are using the app to flip through profiles for the sole reason of making fun of most of the blokes they come across. No question about it.”

Once again, Aziraphale found himself frowning as his blue eyes looked over at them. “How unfortunate,” he commented, turning his attention back to the chattering ducks, impatiently waiting for the bread in his hand to make its way to the water in front of them. Aziraphale liked feeding the ducks. He liked feeding the ducks with Crowley. He liked spending time with the demon - it didn’t matter much what they did. Eating meals together, visiting the theater, going for long walks in the countryside after a nice afternoon driving around in the Bentley. Everything was enjoyable when he was with Crowley.

Six months had passed since the world hadn’t ended and life was good. Life was more than  _ good _ . It was more than  _ nice.  _ It was more than any of those four-letter words the demon hated so much. Life on Earth, here in his little corner of London, here with Crowley by his side was absolutely wonderful. Aziraphale couldn’t remember a time when he’d been happier.

“I mean,” the demon was saying when the angel brought his attention back to the moment at hand. “To be quite honest, it’s not the worst thing in the world.” His amber eyes gazed out across the pond in front of them, grazing over the collection of ducks that had gathered before them. “Human relationships have been fragile at best from the beginning, haven’t they?

He paused, ripping off a rather large piece of bread and chucking it at the nearest duck. The scrap of food sailed through the air, nailing the poor creature directly on the tip of her bill, startling her so much that in the time it took the poor bird to calm down, the morsel had already been gobbled up by a nearby mallard.

“In ancient Greece, a girl’s father picked out who she would get married to.” The demon pointed out, roughly. “Then you had those Hebrew men with multiple wives and boatloads of children. And remember good ol’ Henry VIII? He basically flung a big ‘screw you’ to the Pope, just so he could dump one girlfriend and get another.” Crowley paused, golden eyes still fixed on the duck he’d hit earlier who was currently quacking indignantly at him. The demon pelted another chunk of bread at her. This time, she grabbed it clean out of the air, much to his chagrin.

“And don’t get me started on the ‘hippie years’,” he grumbled, crossing his arms and sinking down further into the park bench. The duck Crowley was staring at gave another loud quack before paddling off to join the others gathered closer to the angel’s side of the bench.

“Is a little bit of ‘judging a book by its cover’ really so bad? Considering how horrible dating has been in every other century?”

“Oh,” Aziraphale piped up, “I wouldn’t go that far, my dear. There were quite some wonderful courtship customs back in the late 19th century. I do believe you slept through them.”

Although he could not see Crowley’s eyes behind the pair of dark sunglasses, Aziraphale could tell the demon was glaring at him. Playfully, full of fondness and affection Crowley would likely never admit to, but glaring nonetheless. “Name one single thing they did back then that could be considered truly heartfelt or genuine.”

“Oh!” The angel’s eyes lit up with excitement as memories rushed back into his mind. Crowley heaved a sigh beside him, but Aziraphale plowed on. “Well, there was the obvious offering of compliments - “ almost immediately, he broke off, brow furrowing slightly. “The heartfelt ones, you know. Not the inadequacies you hear today.”

This correction seemed to get the demon’s attention. He sat up a little bit straighter. “You mean stuff like ‘I’d hit that’, or ‘Nice rack’? Or wait!” Aziraphale glowered at his friend as the demon sat up straight and grinned at him, wiggling his eyebrows slightly. “What about this one?”

And before the angel could lift a hand to stop him, Crowley had brought two of his fingers up to his mouth and released the most high pitched, ear-splitting duo of whistles Aziraphale had ever heard. Several heads turned in their direction, mostly from females in the vicinity, including the three they’d been discussing earlier, causing the demon to burst out into a fit of laughter that lasted nearly five minutes long.

“Are you quite done?” Aziraphale asked dryly as Crowley finally stopped to take a breath. He didn’t need to - the demon could have gone on for hours and Aziraphale would have waited patiently for him to finish. He might have done just that to spite the angel, but it was such a nice spring day - too nice for either of them to be spoiling it for the other.

“Probably not.” At least he was telling the truth. Although, come to think of it, Aziraphale couldn’t think of a time Crowley had ever lied to him. The thought warmed his heart like a cup of hot cocoa on a cold winter’s day. “But please, continue.”

Quietly, and with as much dignity as he possessed, Aziraphale cleared his throat and continued. “I meant, things like ‘the grace of eloquence is seated on your lips’ or ‘the brightness in your eyes would shame the stars’.  _ Real  _ compliments, from the heart, dear.”

When Crowley did not interrupt again, Aziraphale continued. “There was also the presentation of gifts: flowers, jewelry - “

“People do that now, angel.” Aziraphale huffed. Was he determined to do this during the whole conversation? How hard was it to just sit there and listen?

“Yes,” the angel agreed, pausing to think about it for a moment. “But it was more genuine back then. These days you can go onto any oldfangled computer and press a button and get some trinket shipped to your doorstep.” Aziraphale looked over to see Crowley staring at him with an amused smirk on his face. The angel simply rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what the demon was thinking.

“Just because I have an older computer that I only use for account keeping, doesn’t mean that I don’t know how they work, Crowley.”

The demon snorted, clearly amused by the notion. “Are you sure about that, angel? Because -”

Now it was Aziraphale’s turn to interrupt. “The point is, back then, gifts were lovingly selected after hours if not days or weeks of deliberation. Many of them were even handmade by the person giving them. They were  _ special. _ And,” he continued before Crowley could think of some snarky comment to shoot back at him. “And I can’t count the number of times I saw a man give up his seat for a woman he admired, or offered to hold the door for her as she walked in or out of a building. The men were polite, and thoughtful, and very respectful of the woman and her family.”

“Sounds like a bunch of poppycock to me,” Crowley grumbled, but Aziraphale thought he detected a note of wistfulness. Perhaps he was only projecting, but there was a chance, wasn’t there? A chance that Crowley was genuinely interested? That maybe he regretted missing out on seeing that side of society as humanity had progressed.

“I believe you’d feel differently, had you the chance to see it in action.” The angel smiled softly to himself, momentarily lost in memories of satin gloves and cordial greetings and carefully chosen words, laced with poetry and imagery and heartfelt feelings. Coy smiles and hidden joys and a general thoughtfulness and respect that seems to have vanished into oblivion with the passing years.

Crowley snorted, the sound obviously directed at Aziraphale. “What a pity I’ve lost the chance. Whatever shall I do, angel?”

Aziraphale ignored his friend’s obvious jab. Crowley had never been one for grand gestures of undying love. He always made a big fuss whenever Romeo and Juliet was playing at the West End and Aziraphale dragged him along to see it. For Heaven’s sake, the demon’s favorite part about any romantic film they saw in the theater was heckling the characters and throwing popcorn at them from the sidelines.

Still, the angel wondered how his friend might react if the deep care and devotion were being directed at him for once. Would Crowley continue on with his belief that all romance was a farce? That relationships were broken from the start and would only ever be filled with disconnect and an overall emptiness?

A sudden idea popped into the angel’s mind. He grinned in anticipation, trying to ignore the wild fluttering of his stomach as he turned toward his best friend.

“Let me give you that chance, my dear,” Aziraphale urged, resting his hands in gentle fists upon his knees.

Crowley’s eyes went wide behind the glasses. Even with their reflective properties, Aziraphale could see the pupils narrowing into thin vertical slits.

“What?”

Almost immediately, the angel began to feel nervous. Had he said the wrong thing? Was Crowley upset by his offer? Had he misread the situation? Interpreted their relationship incorrectly? He could always try and backtrack. Play it off as some sort of joke. Crowley liked jokes. Surely that would be all well and good, wouldn’t it?

“Oh, well - ” Aziraphale stuttered, sighing inwardly at himself. “I just thought - you really did miss some splendid customs, dear boy. And I didn’t think it fair of you to write it off outright without having experienced some yourself. It was a ridiculous idea, I know - shouldn’t have even brought it up. Where were we? Something about the ducks, I’d imagine - “

The demon held up a hand, silencing Aziraphale immediately. He watched with wide blue eyes as, tentatively, Crowley let his sunglasses slide down his nose, just a hair. Just enough so that Aziraphale could see the true amber reflection dancing in the sunlight.

“I’m not - ” the demon started, then scowled, clenching his fists in his lap. “I’m not necessarily opposed to the idea…” he trailed off, as if not sure where to go with such a statement. Aziraphale waited patiently for his friend to gather his thoughts.

“Ask me again?”

Aziraphale cleared his throat, slowly reaching forward to take Crowley’s hand in his. His heart fluttered at the sharp intake of breath coming from the demon’s mouth the moment their skin made contact.

“Crowley, my dear, would you allow me to take you out on a date tomorrow night?”

A hint of a smile was followed quickly by a nervous chuckle. The demon did not once try to remove his hand from Aziraphale’s presence. “Yeah, sure angel. Sounds like fun.”

And that was how, twenty-seven and a half agonizing hours later, Aziraphale found himself standing outside a building in Mayfair, a bouquet of carnations in one hand, ribbon wrapped box in the other.

Perhaps the gift was going a bit overboard, but Aziraphale had mentioned it in his explanation of the courting customs of the time and he  _ had _ promised Crowley to do his best to show the demon what life had been like while he was sleeping the century away. It wasn’t like the angel had gone out and gotten him something expensive. In fact, it hardly cost anything at all. Mostly just the time it took him to make.

After hovering in the lobby for long enough that people began shooting strange looks his way, Aziraphale opted to take the stairs. Perhaps if he made his way up the several stories naturally, instead of using the elevator or miracling himself up there, the effort of it would help disguise how intensely his heart was beating inside of his chest. Perhaps, if he took each step one at a time, the angel might be able to focus on the gentle rhythmic tapping of his foot against the hardwood, rather than the way his stomach felt like it was going to permanently lodge itself in his throat.

He emerged onto Crowley’s floor, feeling like he could barely breathe. Why was his corporation reacting in this way? What did Aziraphale have to be so worried about? This was  _ Crowley _ he was talking about. They’d been friends for centuries – millennia even, although Aziraphale wouldn’t have admitted to that fact until recently. The angel had absolutely no reason to be afraid. Even if this date was a total disaster, Crowley would still be his friend. They were on their own side after all. Nothing they could do would ever change that simple fact.

There was absolutely nothing to be worried about in the slightest. The angel was just being silly thinking otherwise.

Taking a deep breath, Aziraphale knocked on the door. The sound reverberated around him, echoing across the cool, sleek hallway. This whole building reminded the angel of an empty, modern showroom, where humans stored their fancy furniture and other trinkets of worth, but no one actually lived in.

Aziraphale shifted his weight back and forth between his feet three times before he bothered to knock again. Technically, he could just miracle the door open. Crowley almost always did this whenever the demon visited the bookshop. It wouldn’t be unwelcome, Aziraphale was sure, except…he was trying to prove a point here. The angel was supposed to be acting as a proper gentleman, here to retrieve Crowley for a  _ date _ . It wouldn’t do to simply barge in, especially if his friend was still getting ready.

Quickly, Aziraphale pulled his pocket watch from the front pocket of his vest. He forced a sigh of air from his lungs. He was still a minute and a half early. No need to panic, yet.

After the third set of knocks, the angel decided that Crowley must not be able to hear him. That was why he wasn’t answering the door. Gently, he added his voice to the announcement of his arrival, leaning in so his lips hovered right by the doorframe.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale called, rapping his knuckles against the black door for a fourth time. “Crowley, dear, are you almost ready to go?”

Still nothing. The angel felt his stomach begin drifting up into his throat. He swallowed forcefully and tried again.

“Crowley?” What could the demon possibly be up to? Had he gone to take an afternoon nap and forgotten to wake up? Aziraphale supposed that Crowley had been known to do that before. There was always the possibility of it happening again. “If you’ve forgotten about our engagement, that’s alright. I don’t mind waiting for you to get ready. Or we could do it some other time if tonight doesn’t work anymore!”

Ten seconds ticked by. Aziraphale knew that to be true because he had taken his pocket watch out once more and watched each precise movement of the gold tinted hand. That was it. He was certain that Crowley had simply fallen asleep and couldn’t hear Aziraphale as he called, but it wouldn’t do to leave without checking to make sure his friend was alright first. If Crowley was indeed sleeping, Aziraphale would leave him be. They could always reschedule their date for another time.

With a flick of his wrist, the door popped open and the angel stepped across the threshold and into Crowley’s flat.

Something was wrong.

Aziraphale couldn’t put his finger on it, but he immediately sensed something was wrong. It was like a fowl scent lingering in the air, except he didn’t sense it with his nose. He sensed it with the hairs that had suddenly stood up on the back of his neck, with the ringing in his ears at the overwhelming silence that filled the entire space, drawing him in , taunting him, teasing him.

_ Something was wrong. _

Nothing looked off as the angel stepped into the entranceway, letting the door shut tightly behind him. Nothing looked out of place. There was no shattered glass, no sign of a forced entry or a struggle. The living room was as pristine as it had been the last time Aziraphale had been here, black leather couch untouched. Not a single speck of dust on any of the sleek wooden surfaces. Not the coffee table, not the small table with the lamp by the couch. Not even on the rather large television mounted on the wall.

Slowly, the angel’s blue eyes drifted across the darkness, eyes focusing in on the set of double French doors at the opposite side of the room. The only light in the whole flat filtered in from that far window, spilling into the other room where Crowley kept his plants. Aziraphale had been here once before, on the night after the world hadn’t ended. He remembered the layout precisely and carefully made his way across this room to the double doors, squinting his eyes against the evening light spilling in through the glass separating this room from the next.

As he grew closer, the angel felt his heartbeat starting to increase. Each step took him further than the last and in just a few seconds Aziraphale had his hand wrapped around the cold metal handle and was sliding the door open as fast as he could, the sudden rush of air causing the nearest plants on either side to gently sway back and forth.

He looked down and Aziraphale’s heart stopped. There in front of him, lying face down in a pool of his own blood, was Crowley. He was dressed in a pair of black trousers and matching black suitcoat, with the edge of a white dress shirt peeking out from underneath the cuffs. The demon’s hair was combed and styled to the side, indicating he had put in a decent amount of effort getting ready for their night together. Potentially more time than Aziraphale had.

Sightless amber eyes stared ahead at the grey stone wall in front of him. Deep, rich blood had spilled across the floor, soaking into his shirt and coat and staining the demon’s cheek crimson where it touched the cold stone floor. The side of Crowley’s head had been bashed in with something, but from this angle, it was impossible to tell by what.

A strangled cry escaped from Aziraphale’s lips as he stood motionless in the doorway.  _ No, nonononono, this can’t be happening.  _ It couldn’t be happening, this couldn’t be  _ real _ . Not Crowley. Not his best friend.  _ No! _

Aziraphale was on his knees in an instant, not spending a fraction of his attention to notice how the cold blood seeped through his trousers, sliding up against his skin in a sticky red mess. He didn’t care that his favorite suit was getting ruined, didn’t care that he was disturbing a crime scene. Didn’t care that he’d haphazardly dropped both the flowers and his gift on the floor by the door. The angel didn’t care about any of it.

All he cared about was pulling Crowley up against his chest, tears already falling from his eyes, mixing with the sticky mess marring the demon’s beautiful face. Another sob wracked Aziraphale’s body as he reached up a hand to brush the matted red hair away from his friend’s forehead.

“Please,” the angel sobbed, feeling like a knife was being driven deep into his chest. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t  _ breathe. _ It was all just too much. “Oh, please, no…Crowley.”

The angel shut his eyes. He willed all of this to be some sort of dream – some sort of nightmare. He willed the blood to return to its corporation, willed the wound to close. Willed the breath back into the demon’s lungs. Willed his heart to start beating once more. He needed Crowley to be ok. Needed to see the demon smile again. Needed to feel the demon’s warmth pressed up against his body, indicating that he was still here. That he wasn’t gone from Aziraphale’s life forever.

“Crowley, please,” tears continued to fall as Aziraphale opened his eyes to gaze down at those beautiful amber orbs he adored. “Please don’t be gone. Please come back to me. Don’t leave me here alone.”

The chilling silence in the flat echoed around him, threatening to drown out everything else. Aziraphale gazed down at Crowley, clutching the corpse tightly against his chest, his tears never ending. Quietly, the angel pleaded. He cried out for a miracle, prayed that something could still be done, that his demon could be returned to him once more.

There was no response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> If you're here and you like what you see so far, feel free to leave kudos or a comment :) They are much appreciated!


	3. Chapter 2

“Now you listen here,” Crowley snarled, his amber eyes flashing in warning. “I have waited six-thousand  _ bloody _ years for this night and I will not have some lame excuse for a plant mess this up for me.”

The row of potted gardenias began to tremble before the demon and Crowley smirked in satisfaction. In the several hundred years since he had started fooling around with gardening, he had never been more serious about his threats than in this moment. He would burn each and every one of these pathetic shrubs to the ground if they so much as wilted a single leaf. Aziraphale was due to arrive in less than two hours and if these plants were anything less than  _ absolutely breathtaking _ , they would be nothing but ash by the time the evening was out.

Of course, Crowley was not going to use all of them. He’d started growing half a dozen of the plants, just in case they got any ideas. He found that a little bit of competition really brought out the best in them. Competition and a constant looming threat to their life. Crowley would accept nothing less than their absolute best. His angel deserved perfection. Crowley would likely discorporate from sheer embarrassment if he handed Aziraphale a plant covered with even the hint of a spot on the horizon.

Sending one last lingering glare at the plants, the demon stalked back across the room, shoving the slab of stone wall out of his way as he approached. The door gave easily, spinning on its axis several times behind him as Crowley made his way over to the mirror against the far wall.

Gingerly, he pulled at the white sleeve beneath his suit coat, brushing his palm against it, willing every last wrinkle away. Crowley stared at his reflection, frowning as he took in the sharp black lines, outlining his skinny frame. Was it enough? Too much? Aziraphale hadn’t said what kind of date it was. Were they going somewhere fancy? A nice dinner at the Ritz perhaps? Or should he dress more casually? In something that was better suited for a long walk in the park.

At least his hair looked good. Although, on second thought, maybe he should try doing something else with it. Crowley had spent the better part of an hour brushing and styling it just right. It looked effortless and suave and paired with his black suit and crimson tie rather nicely. But did Aziraphale like his short hair, or would the angel prefer something longer? Crowley could grow it out in the time it took him to cross to the other side of the room. He could chop it off at his shoulders, tie half of it up in a messy bun like he saw some of the university-aged humans doing. Or was it better to go all out? Style it the way it was back in Eden with soft red curls that reflected the evening sun, like when he and Aziraphale first met.

What did the angel like? What did Aziraphale want from him? Crowley had been dreaming of this for as long as he could remember. The thought of what could happen tonight filled the demon with both extreme excitement and unbridled terror. What if he messed it up? What if Aziraphale didn’t enjoy himself? What if he realized he and Crowley were better off just as friends?

What if he didn’t? What if Aziraphale realized he wanted  _ more _ ?

Crowley took a deep breath and banished those thoughts from his mind. It did no good for him to dwell on them now. He needed to focus. Everything had to be perfect. He  _ had _ to get another chance at this. Crowley would do whatever he had to in order to ensure he got a second date. And a third. And a fourth.

He would do whatever it took to ensure the dates never ended.

One more tug at his collar and Crowley was satisfied with his appearance for the time being. He shouldn’t be so nervous, the demon told himself as he turned around to head back into the other room. This was  _ Aziraphale _ , for crying out loud. The angel that had, over the millennia, become his very best friend. They had been a part of each others lives since the very beginning. Even if this night was a total disaster, they would still have their friendship, wouldn’t they?

Please,  _ someone _ , please let them still have that. Crowley didn’t know what he would do without Aziraphale’s friendship to ground him. He might just sleep the rest of eternity away. The demon had tried to do it once back in the 19th century. He wouldn’t put it past himself to do it again.

“Right,” the announcement echoed in the room around them. Gardenias along with several potted ferns and a shrub or two began trembling again as the demon took his place in front of them, his back to the wide window, afternoon light streaming in behind him. Crowley made sure to position himself in just the right way so that he was blocking all access to the sun as he spoke to the blossoming flowers. “You all know your jobs. You all know what is at stake. If that angel doesn’t cry tears of absolute joy when he gets here, I will throw you all into the incinerator.”

Crowley paused as the plants in front of him continued to tremble beneath his intense gaze. “Or the garbage disposal,” he added as an afterthought. A sly grin appeared appeared on the demon’s face. “I’ll even let you choose.”

There. That ought to do it. Crowley checked his watch. One hour and forty-five minutes to go. What should he do with all that time? He could go out into the living room and watch the tele. It was just as good as anything else he could come up with to do. Crowley was pretty sure there were some reruns of the Golden Girls on at this time of night. If not, well, he could always miracle up a DVD or two. 

He could also go back in the other room and check his appearance again, although, if Crowley decided to  _ then _ sit down and watch the tele, he would have to get up again in an hour and re-check himself. To make sure there wasn’t a wrinkle in sight. Seemed like a waste of time, in his opinion. Might as well just wait and do all the checking at once, right before Aziraphale showed up.

“Oh, would you all knock it off,” the demon groaned at the still quivering plants. Their shaking only seemed to grow louder even though he hadn’t threatened them in nearly a minute. Usually, Crowley didn’t mind a bit of trembling, but the sound of it was louder than usual and it was cutting into his head, making it hard to think. He was starting to feel a bit nervous himself and that simply wouldn’t do. “If you just do your jobs right, there’s no need to panic.”

Still, the plants trembled. Crowley shut his eyes, trying to drown out the sound of their rustling, wondering if it was worth it to throw one of them out the window just to get the others to shut up. This was getting out of hand.

When he opened his eyes again, the plants were gone. The sunlight filtering in from the window behind him was gone. His whole flat was gone. Instead, the demon found himself pitching forward, legs suddenly unable or unwilling to support his weight. Crowley’s hands shot out in front of him, slamming into the hard stone floor as he landed flat on his stomach, inches away from smashing his face into the ground.

“What the - ?” The demon grumbled and pushed himself into a sitting position, turning his head to stare angrily at the crumbling stone wall beside him, covered in grime and thin trickles of water. Crowley stood back up and grimaced as he noticed the smudges of grey dust that had collected on his knees. Bending over, he gave them a quick brush, breathing a sigh of relief as the pants quickly became clean once more. 

Now was not the time to be soiling his appearance. Crowley had a date that he was absolutely not going to miss.

“Ow!” Reflexively, the demon brought his hand up to the back of his head, wincing as the sudden pain that had erupted across the back of his skull. Gently, he pulled his hand away, expecting to see some sign of trauma. There was nothing. No additional flare of pain with the contact, no sign of blood on his fingertips. The initial ache was already fading and Crowley would have thought he was imagining everything – that this was some sort of stressed induced hallucination. But then he turned his hand over.

He turned his hand over and the demon noticed how the shape began to shift, ever so slightly. He noticed how he could see the faintest outline of the stone floor below him  _ through _ the hand splayed in front of him.

Slowly, ice began to creep down Crowley’s spine as his mind finally caught up with his surroundings. His heart attempted to leap from his chest in a panic, dragging the demon’s stomach along with it. Only through the sheer force of his will was the demon able to keep himself together as, finally, he turned to survey the rest of his surroundings.

“Fuck,” Crowley whispered, the sound echoing down the long, dimly lit hallway he found himself in. This was not good. In fact, this was the exact opposite of good. This was bad. Very very bad.

Somehow, from the safety of his own goddamn flat, Crowley had discorporated himself. He didn’t remember how it had happened. Couldn’t fathom how anything he’d done could have resulted in his death, but there was no other explanation. How else would he have ended up back down in the depths of Hell?

_ Aziraphale. _ The thought was so sudden, so strong, it knocked the breath from Crowley’s lungs. He had to get back to Aziraphale, as soon as possible. The demon didn’t understand exactly how he’d ended up down here, but based of the ghostly pain in his skull, it couldn’t have been very pretty. Aziraphale was due to show up at his flat in less than two hours. The last thing Crowley wanted was for his angel to think Crowley had stood him up, or worse – have Aziraphale walk through that front door to a bloody crime scene.

This was fine. Crowley took a deep breath and turned from one side to the other. The hallway stretched on as far as he could see in either direction. There was nothing discernable on the walls or the floor or even the ceiling that would indicate which way he could go. Nothing about this place seemed familiar, but Hell was a twisting maze of dark, damp hallways. All he had to do was pick a direction and start walking. Eventually, Crowley would run into something he would recognize.

Either that, or he would run into some _ one _ he recognized, which was not as ideal, but probably not life-ending. As far as they knew, the demons down here thought he had gone native - that he was immune to any threat they could throw at him. Crowley could use this to his advantage if he came across anyone that recognized him. Whatever it took to get back to Aziraphale.

Deciding that the initial direction did not matter, Crowley took off down the hallway to his right, stomach churning unpleasantly with each step that echoed off the stone walls surrounding him. Even the ceiling was made of stone. It was about fifteen to twenty feet tall and arched at the top, with crumbling slabs that looked as if they were about to fall on top of him at any second. The walls were in the same state of deterioration and sat closer together than the spread from floor to ceiling, but only just. 

Eventually, the hallway took a sharp left turn, leading the demon down an identical corridor that appeared to be just as long. Crowley scowled and, folding his arms across his chest, continued on his way. 

What a pain this was going to be. Not only did he have to find his way out of this maze of hallways, but once Crowley did find his way back to Hell’s central offices, he  _ then _ had to find a way to convince Beelzebub to give him another body. Otherwise, the demon would be stuck in a situation similar to Aziraphale’s on the day the world didn’t end. Not that Crowley had any moral issues with possessing a human. The Earth might be better off if he did. Still, the prospect seemed like a lot of work and the thought of sharing a body with someone else’s mind gave made him extremely uncomfortable.

It was possible Crowley could convince Adam to return his real body once he got back to Earth, but there was no guarantee. In the past six months, he and Aziraphale hadn’t heard a peep from the boy. They had no indication that Adam still possessed all of his Antichrist powers. Even if he did, there was no way to know if what he’d done for Aziraphale and that old, red-haired woman. A lot of crazy shit had gone down that day and there was no way to know for sure what actions were legitimate and which a miraculous fluke.

Best not to bet too hard on the boy. Crowley was going to have to do this the old-fashioned way. Best case scenario, he made it back to Headquarters, waltzed into Lord Beelzebub’s office and the Demon Prince immediately signed the paperwork and booted Crowley out before the demon had to ask twice.

Worst case scenario - well, it was probably best not to think about the worst case scenario. Maybe the middle-case was a better one to examine. Crowley would do a bit of arm twisting, a smidge of poking and prodding and pleading and eventually Beelzebub would give in and give him what he wanted, just to get Crowley to leave them alone. He could manage that. If it got Crowley back to his angel’s side, he could manage anything.

Glancing down at his watch, the demon let out a low groan. Of course. Fucking shit,  _ of course _ his watch wouldn’t work down here. What piece of technology would actually choose to work the way it was designed to? Why would he need to know what time it was when he was trapped in  _ literal _ Hell? 

Just perfect. Crowley picked up his pace, biting his lip in pure frustration when the hallway split into two identical hallways, one leading left and the other right. This place was a fucking labyrinth. Well, that was alright. Crowley had nothing better to do with his time than race down dimly lit passageways, avoiding puddles of slimy sludge and mildew as he went. What better way to spend a Friday afternoon less than two hours before his first date with the bloody  _ love of his life _ ?

At the intersection, Crowley stopped. He took a deep breath and tried to calm his rapidly beating heart. This was fine. He was going to be fine. He could figure his way out of here, no problem. All he had to do was think. Crowley was smarter than half the demons down here combined. It wouldn’t do to create this maze of hallways so complicated that half the population would get lost in it. There had to be some sort of pattern. Some sign to point him in the right direction. All he had to do was take a deep breath, clear his mind, and  _ think _ .

_ Don’t worry, Aziraphale, _ the demon assured, mostly to himself than anyone else,  _ I’ll make it back to you. I swear. Nothing is going to keep me away from you. _

Amber eyes flashed open in the dim, flickering light. Slowly, Crowley turned his head to the left, eyes narrowing as he looked for anything that could be of use to him. Markings on the wall, the flow of water by his feet, patterns of moss or mold on the corners, indicating which way to go. Taking a step into the intersection, the demon’s hand reached out to brush the wall, wondering if there was some sort of secret hidden panel or message underneath the layer of grimy film.

A few seconds later, Crowley felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up straight. He turned around, ears pivoting from one hallway to the next, straining to listen as whispers began to sound at the edge of his hearing. They were soft and raspy, sounding almost like the hissing of a snake, but deeper in tone, more guttural, menacing. 

Crowley froze, ignoring how his stomach lurched in his chest, ignoring how his head and heart simultaneously pleaded with him to run. All he could do was stand frozen, wide amber eyes darting around wildly, looking for any sign of approaching danger. Trying to figure out which way to go.

The whispers grew louder, fiercer, more intense with every second that ticked by. Crowley’s breathing grew shallower each moment until it stopped altogether, his ears still fighting to make sense of it all. By now the hairs on his arm had joined those at attention on the back of his neck, pulling away from him as if they were trying to escape whatever was making its way closer and closer and closer.

A long high pitched scream echoed throughout the halls from all sides and Crowley’s throat closed. He was in danger. He was in more danger now than he had ever been in his entire life. There was no way for him to know for sure how true that thought was except for the pure terror that coursed through him like a bolt of lightning. The demon tried to move, tried to run, but his feet were glued to the floor, legs unresponsive.

_ Move, you useless limbs! Get yourself into gear or so help me, I will -  _

A second scream, just as horrifying as the first, was all Crowley needed to get his feet to finally listen. In the blink of an eye, he was off, fleeing down the nearest hallway, amber eyes stretched wide and fixed ahead of him, looking for any symbol or sign that would direct him out of this nightmarish labyrinth. Out of this overwhelming terror and back into the arms of his angel.

Panic clawed at his heart once more as Crowley sensed it. He sensed it with every hair on his body, every nerve in his fingers and toes. Every molecule in his entire discorporated form. Somewhere, deep in the darkest pits of Hell, somewhere far away from him and yet somehow still too close for comfort, he felt  _ something _ stir from its slumber and begin the hunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday everyone!!
> 
> I hope you all are enjoying this story so far. If you've got the time, I'd love to hear what you think (reading comments is my life! I don't think I could accurately express to you all how excited I get whenever I see a notification for one). 
> 
> Have a wonderful weekend and I will see you back here again on Tuesday :)


	4. Chapter 3

_ Crowley wasn’t gone. _

The thought caused Aziraphale to bolt upright from where he knelt on the cold concrete floor of his friend’s apartment. His blue eyes flew open wide and the angel clutched the demon’s body a bit closer to his chest as he took a loud, gasping, sobbing breath.

Crowley wasn’t gone. He was just discorporated, which meant he wasn’t gone _ forever. _Just temporarily. After he’d been struck on the head, the demon would have reappeared in Hell. He was down there right now, probably filling out mounds of paperwork to get a new body. There was no other way for him to get back to Earth. Not unless the demon started possessing humans.

Aziraphale paused. He supposed that was a viable solution, if asking for a new body didn’t pan out. It had worked for the angel in his desperate need to return to the verdant planet right before Armageddon. There was no reason the same wouldn’t work for Crowley. They could figure out how to go about getting him a legitimate body once he got back to Earth.

The thought of Crowley stuck in Hell for any longer than he had to be filled the angel with dread. There was no reason to suspect he was in any immediate danger. Aziraphale had been down there in Crowley’s place for the trial. He knew how frightened those demons had been and the angel doubted that they would be in any hurry to try anything too extreme.

But what if he was wrong? Aziraphale’s stomach clenched unpleasantly. What if Hell had figured out a way to harm Crowley in the six months since the angel had deceived them? What if they had finally figured out the trick he and Crowley had pulled? What if they knew he wasn’t quite as immune to Holy Water as he had originally seemed?

Panic seized at Aziraphale’s heart. What if Hell had been the reason for Crowley’s discorporation? They could have sent someone up to take care of him. Hell already knew where Crowley lived. They had sent demons after him before, but this time Crowley didn’t have a stash of Holy Water to protect himself. It would have been all too easy to get the jump on him.

Hell could have been behind this. Or worse, what if it had been Heaven? Aziraphale didn’t want to imagine what would happen to his friend if Gabriel or one of the other Archangels got their hands on him. They had been willing to burn Aziraphale from existence. The angel couldn’t imagine what they might do to a demon, especially one like Crowley who didn’t have the full force of Hell behind him as protection.

Aziraphale _ had _ to find Crowley. There wasn’t time for him to wait around and hope that his friend managed to talk his way out of whatever sticky situation he’d gotten himself into. The angel had no idea how he was going to help, but he knew he couldn’t sit here on the floor crying until something happened. 

He also couldn’t leave Crowley’s body here. It was of no more use to the demon. Now that it was dead, Crowley wouldn’t be able to inhabit it again. He would need to find a replacement. Still, the thought of just tossing this one out on the street or in the garbage filled Aziraphale’s heart with overwhelming sorrow. He had so many memories of Crowley in this corporation. It wouldn’t do to just throw the body out. But he couldn’t just leave it here either. Eventually, someone was bound to notice the stench of dried blood and decomposing flesh. That would only bring a whole host of new issues. Issues that Aziraphale didn’t have the time or patience to deal with.

“Hold on, my dear,” he whispered, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead to Crowley’s, trying to ignore how cold his friend’s skin felt against his own. “I’m coming to get you.”

In the blink of an eye and the brief image of stardust flittering across the angel’s mind , the body was gone. Aziraphale also tidied up the blood that had made its way onto the floor as well as the stains on his own clothes. As he stood up, the angel winced, still feeling the sticky sensation of the demon’s blood everywhere it had touched him. He’d miracled the stains away, but the memory of them still clung to him like spider’s silk. Aziraphale still knew, deep down, they were there.

Downtown London housed a particular building, alongside all its other architectural structures. From the outside, it looked like any other building. Many stories tall, grey cement exterior, windows perfectly placed in symmetric rows on every floor. No one thought twice about it as they bustled past in their day to day lives. No one ever stopped to give it a second glance. No one ever opened the door and tried to enter. It was simply another boring building that did nothing except add to the city skyline. 

If someone _ were _ to go inside, they would find only a single set of escalators, outlined in fluorescent lights. One leading up, and one leading down. This area, the lobby that housed them, was the entranceway to both Heaven and Hell.

Aziraphale did not walk to the lobby. He did not run. He did not extend his wings and fly through the streets of London as fast as the wind would carry him. This matter was too important for any delay. There was a chance he was already too late to save Crowley. The angel refused to allow his dawdling to be the reason his demon was unable to return to him. Transporting himself directly to the building hardly counted as a frivolous miracle. Not when his best friend’s very existence was at stake.

The moment Aziraphale appeared in the lobby, he paused. Which way to go? Did he brave the depths of Hell? March down into the damp, dark space and demand Crowley be given back to him? Should he travel up to Heaven and request Gabriel tell him whatever he knew about Crowley’s discorporation?

Ultimately, the decision was a simple one. Crowley was in Hell, not Heaven. So, Hell was where the angel needed to go.

He took several steps forward, aiming for the escalator on the left, eyes fixed on the reflective floor beneath his feet, waiting for it to open up and send him down. Aziraphale had never traveled down to Hell on his own before. The only time he’d been there was when Hastur and the others had kidnapped him. In that instance, Aziraphale had been knocked out during the actual travel. There was nothing he could use from that experience now during his current predicament. 

Aziraphale _ had _ seen Crowley enter Hell, however. Many times. Surely, if he did exactly as the demon had done, the floor would open and he would be lead down. All Aziraphale had to do was keep walking. Keep walking and the doorway would open.

It did not. The angel made it all the way to the escalator on the far wall, leading down from Heaven, without a single panel in the floor opening up to him. He turned around, walked back to the front of the room, and tried again.

Still nothing.

“Um,” Aziraphale began, not sure what the protocol was for these sorts of things. He’d seen Michael down in Hell during Crowley’s trial. It had to be possible for an angel to get in, but maybe not through the front door. Perhaps there was a back way in. “Excuse me, but I would like to be let in, if you don’t mind.”

Silence. The angel frowned, trying not to let his worry overtake him. This was fine. Just a little bit of a miscommunication. He was sure that they would open the door for him in a moment. “It’s rather urgent business. I don’t really have the time to sit out here waiting.”

Still nothing. The angel glanced warily at the escalator leading up. He supposed it couldn’t hurt to head back up to Heaven and ask around. Surely someone had to know about a back door entrance. Aziraphale wouldn’t even have to bother Gabriel or the other Archangels. He could pop in and pop back out and they would never even know.

Biting the inside of his lip, Aziraphale strode across the room again and toward the escalator. His breath hovered in his chest, refusing to be let out as the angel waited to see what would happen. Slowly, the escalator began its climb and Aziraphale folded his hands properly in front of him, foot tapping nervously on the step below him.

Suddenly, the ever-constant escalator stopped. Aziraphale’s blue eyes widened in panic as, slowly, the device started moving in the opposite direction.

“Hey!” the angel exclaimed, taking a few steps up, bringing him back to the position he had been in moments ago. Vaguely, Aziraphale felt the escalator start to speed up. “What do you think you are doing?”

The faster he tried to climb, the more quickly the stairs moved in the downward direction, slowly bringing the angel back down to the floor where he had begun. As soon as Aziraphale removed his foot from the surface, the escalator reversed directions once more and began its methodical climb up toward the Silver City.

“You can’t shut me out of Heaven!” he hollered up the stairs, knowing no one who was listening would care to really hear him. “I’m still an angel, I’ve still got my wings!” Aziraphale could feel the frustration welling up inside of him as he tried again, to the same end. No matter how he stood on that escalator or tried to climb its steps, the infernal device would not let him ascend more than a few measly feet.

“You - you pathetic pigeon brains!” the angel called up at them, feeling the tears surfacing once more. “She hasn’t forsaken me. You have absolutely no right to do this! Uriel! Michael! GABRIEL!”

No one was listening. No one had ever listened to Aziraphale. Why should they start now?

He was shut out of both Heaven and Hell, with no clear way to get to Crowley. What else could he do? Where else could he go for help? Sitting around, waiting for Crowley to show back up wasn’t an option. Even if the demon did make it back to him relatively quickly, what was to prevent this from happening again?

If he couldn’t make his way to Crowley now, Aziraphale could at least find out as much as he could about the circumstances of the demon’s discorporation. If he could figure out who had done this to Crowley, he could better protect his demon in the future.

Casting one last menacing glare at the escalator, the angel vanished, instantly reappearing back in Crowley’s flat. He had miracled the body and blood away, but Aziraphale hadn’t touched anything else in the apartment. Surely there had to be something here that would be useful. Someone came in here and _ murdered _ his best friend. They had to have left some kind of clue behind. All Aziraphale had to do was focus enough to find it.

The angel tried. Aziraphale tried his best to go over every inch of the flat, but he just couldn’t stay focused. The longer he lingered here, the more his mind drifted to memories of Crowley. Memories of the night he spent here after the world didn’t end as he wandered about the living room. Memories of countless nights in the bookshop as he looked over the demon’s stash of fine wines. Memories of a smouldering church as he gazed at the statue Crowley kept at the end of his hall. 

There weren’t many things here in the demon’s flat, but everything Crowley had managed to hold onto over the years was somehow connected to Aziraphale. The angel felt tears pricking at his eyes and he furiously blinked them away, turning to face the glass-windowed double doors, leading back to the scene of the crime. 

If he was going to find anything of use, that would be the place to look.

As Aziraphale opened the door and crossed the threshold into the room, his eyes fell to the floor. To the scattered blossoms and overturned package that had spilled its contents all over the marble tiles when Aziraphale had dropped it earlier. Feeling tears advancing again, the angel gently knelt down and gathered up the box and its former contents, his fingers lightly brushing over the silky brown thread and soft white feathers, looking for any sign of damage.

In retrospect, a dreamcatcher seemed like such a silly gift to give. Crowley probably would have thought it ridiculous, but Aziraphale had been so proud of it. He’d spent nearly half the day making it, securely wrapping the tan thread around the metal ring, making sure none of the shimmering metal shone through. One by one, he’d secured the loops so that the network of thread in the center looked like a set of perfectly overlapping flower petals. Aziraphale had even attached three of his own feathers at the bottom, to ward away any bad dreams the demon might have, should Crowley choose to hang the gift above his bedpost at nighttime.

Aziraphale didn’t even know if demons had dreams. Crowley had never mentioned one way or the other. He knew the demon liked to sleep, so perhaps he didn’t dream. Or, if he did, perhaps they were all pleasant ones. Aziraphale had no way of knowing. He’d been overcome with the desire to present Crowley a meaningful gift and that had been the first idea to tumble into his mind. Deciding spontaneity on their date could only help his case, Aziraphale had run with it.

Now, looking down at the abandoned gift and wilting flowers on the floor, Aziraphale couldn’t stop the tears from falling once more. How could he have been so stupid? Crowley would have laughed himself silly over such an overly romantic presentation. He was a demon, for someone’s sake. Demons didn’t enjoy sappy, romantic things, did they? 

Tossing both the flowers and dreamcatcher to the side, Aziraphale pulled his knees up to his head and buried his face, folding his arms in front of his eyes to block out the fading sunlight. He let out a high-pitched sob and drew further into himself. Whatever was he going to do? There wasn’t anything here that could help him bring Crowley back. There had been no sign of a forced entry. No murder weapon. Nothing the culprit had dropped. The flat was empty. Empty of all clues, and empty of Crowley.

The sound of gentle rustling finally caught the angel’s attention. Aziraphale sniffed and looked up, noticing the collection of pure white flowering plants on the table beside him. They were shaking back and forth wildly, almost as if they were trembling, which seemed like a ridiculous thing for a plant to do. Frowning, the angel stood up and walked over to them. 

“Everything alright here, dears?” Aziraphale asked softly, wiping his tears with the back of his hand. Remembering how he’d caught Crowley snapping at his plants after Armageddon, the night the angel had stayed over, Aziraphale reached out to brush his fingertips against their soft leaves. Surely, if they responded to demonic criticism, they would hear the angel’s soft words of encouragement too. At the very least, he hoped the simple act could do something to calm them down, the poor dears. 

Gently, the angel rested a hand on the table nearby. He watched in silent wonder as one of the flowers actually leaned down and brushed its petals against the back of Aziraphale’s hand, right where his tears had collected.

Aziraphale’s heart filled with warmth for a moment. How sweet. Here these plants were comforting him, after the terrible day they must have had, sitting here helpless as someone had waltzed in and - 

Blue eyes flew open wide and the angel grabbed his hand back suddenly, clutching it tightly to his chest. “You - ” he began, barely believing what he was about to say. “You saw it! You saw what happened to Crowley!”

The plants shook even louder and Aziraphale felt hope enter his heart. “Who was it?”

Suddenly, the plants fell silent. The angel could have slapped himself. What a stupid question to ask. These plants couldn’t speak. Not in words, like a human or angel or demon could. He would have to go about this a different way.

Taking a deep breath, Aziraphale turned back to the plants waiting before him. “Did you see someone else in this room with Crowley earlier this evening?”

Once again, the plants began to tremble and Aziraphale let loose a stream of air he hadn’t realized he’d been holding back. This was good. This, he could use.

“Did you see this person hurt Crowley?” He asked. More rustling. “Did they hit him on the head?”

The angel wanted to ask them what the perpetrator had used to kill Crowley, but that wasn’t the type of question his witnesses could answer. His only options were questions with a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ response. Rustling for yes. Silence for no. Aziraphale could handle that. He might need a bit of time, but he could figure this out.

“Did they hit him with anything in this room?” The rustling stopped. That was alright. It explained why Aziraphale hadn’t been able to find anything useful in the flat that would lead him to any potential suspects. It also let the angel know that he wasn’t dealing with a complete idiot.

“Did they take the weapon with them?” Aziraphale already knew how the plants would respond, but he needed to hear their answer for himself. Their rustling confirmed his suspicions.

So, what had he learned? Someone had, in fact, murdered Crowley. They had somehow gotten in, struck the demon over the head with some kind of object, and then left again without leaving a single trace. Aziraphale looked around the room. The only way in and out of here was through the window or the glass paned doors. Unless, the culprit had miracles at their disposal.

Slowly, Aziraphale turned back to face the plants, his heart hammering away in his chest. This was it. This was the moment of truth. With a few more questions, Aziraphale could find out what happened to his best friend. All he had to do was ask.

“Was it a human who hurt Crowley?”

Their silence sent a flash of panic through Aziraphale’s body. He’d suspected there had been some Heavenly or Hellish fowl-play at hand, but to hear his suspicions confirmed out loud? It only served to cement just how much trouble Crowley was in right now. He _ had _to find his friend. Before it was too late.

“An angel?” Still silence. That only left one answer.

“A demon?”

More rustling filled the air around him and Aziraphale took a deep steadying breath. He wanted to ask the plants so many more questions - what did the demon look like? Did they know him or her? Where had they gone afterward? Did they say anything as they’d struck Crowley down? 

So many questions, none of which the plants could answer to his satisfaction. Still, they’d told Aziraphale that he was looking for a demon. That had to count for something. 

Armed with the new knowledge, Aziraphale looked around the flat again. Nothing stood out to him immediately, so the angel shut his eyes. He blocked off all sight and sound and focused on his more ethereal of senses, looking for even the faintest hint of a trail. Something he could latch onto. Something he could - 

_ There. _The angel’s eyes flew open. The presence was faint, indicating the demon he was looking for knew how to mask it well, but it was still there. Aziraphale could feel the demonic stench in the air around him, so different to Crowley’s own scent. Sure, they had the underlying hints of sulfur in common, but with Crowley, Aziraphale often detected traces of burnt cedar or cinnamon, things that reminded him of a cool autumn afternoon.

This demon held none of those traits. His presence reminded Aziraphale of burnt rubber, of fly coated garbage and dripping sewage. Just the briefest whiff of it made the angel want to gag.

Overall, this was probably a good thing. It made the demon easy to follow. Aziraphale took a lap around the room, identifying where the demon had miracled himself into the flat. For the briefest of moments, the angel feared the culprit would have done the same to get themselves out as soon as the deed was done, but they hadn’t. The trail lead through the rest of the flat, over toward the front door.

Aziraphale followed, barely daring to breathe as he followed it out the door, down the hall and into the stairwell. He couldn’t believe his luck! Aziraphale was actually going to find Crowley’s killer. He would find him and then demand that the demon take him back to Hell where Aziraphale would swoop in to rescue his friend from certain doom, or at least several weeks of paperwork. There was no way Beelzebub or any of the others would say no. Not when facing a demon immune to Holy Water and an angel immune to Hellfire.

Together, the would be unstoppable. All Aziraphale had to do was get to Crowley and everything would be alright again.

He reached the building lobby in record time and strode toward the front door, nimbly dodging the residents that got in his way. Aziraphale was an angel on a mission. He wasn’t going to let anything stand in his way. There was a demon that needed to be caught and punished for what he had done. Aziraphale wouldn’t rest until the creature was found.

When he stepped out into the London streets, Aziraphale felt the presence begin to fade. Panic stabbed its sharp knife into him once more. _ No! _ No, he couldn’t lose it. Not now! Not when he had been so close. Without this, Aziraphale had nothing. He had the knowledge that Crowley was gone and some scumbag demon had been the one to rip him away from Aziraphale’s life. What good did that information do? How was the angel ever going to find his demon?

Another few steps and the trail vanished completely. Aziraphale stopped mid stride, ignoring the pedestrians as they angrily shoved by him. He reached out again, trying to grab onto something that would help, but it was no use.

The trail had gone cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Thank you so much for checking out this story. I'd love to hear what you all are thinking so far. Reading comments is the absolute best part of my day <3 so if you have the time, I'd love to hear from you!
> 
> Also, don't forget to check out Lei_sam's comic, if you haven't done so already, and give them some love too! This story wouldn't be possible without the two of us!
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/19926673/chapters/47182546
> 
> See you all on Friday!


	5. Chapter 4

Crowley had been suspicious for quite some time now, but the events of this particular evening confirmed it. Running was the absolute worst activity humans had ever invented. Worse than waiting in line at the carnival. Worse than routine spring cleaning. Even worse than sitting in morning traffic on the M25.

He felt like he’d been running for ages. Longer than his legs should have been able to carry him and certainly longer than these repetitive hallways suggested he had. By now, the demon should have found a way out, but no matter which way he turned, he could not seem to escape this labyrinth of seeping stone walls.

Every breath that he took burned through his lungs like a raging fire. Crowley didn’t need to breathe. With every pound of his feet against the floor, the demon reminded himself of that fact. He didn’t need to breathe. He didn’t need to feel this pain in his chest. He could stop at any time. Seriously, anytime would be great. The sooner the better, actually, as the sensation was getting quite annoying.

Unfortunately for him, Crowley’s panicked body wasn’t listening. He was going on full autopilot now as he barreled down the long halls, desperate to round the corner before whatever was chasing him came into view. There was no way to tell how close it was, whether it was gaining on him or not. Crowley didn’t want to take the time to find out any of that. Not when even stopping for a second would mean giving that  _ thing _ a chance to spot him.

Shadows danced upon the walls as Crowley ran by the dim, flickering lights, casting their bluish glow throughout the halls. Most of the time, through the quick glances he managed to get out of the corner of his eyes, the demon was sure it was his own shadows he was seeing as he flew down the hallway. Every once in a while, however, he would catch a flicker of motion that didn’t seem quite right. Shapes on the wall ahead of him that did not look familiar. A large scraggly wing. A pair of wide horns. Silhouettes that were straight out of the stuff of nightmares.

The whispers never stopped. They clawed at his ears like a rabid cat, piercing the dank air around him, shooting straight into his core. Crowley’s body filled with ice and he feared he was continuously moments away from freezing up altogether. The panic in his chest was the only thing keeping his body in motion as the demon searched for a way out. He  _ had _ to get out of here. He  _ had _ to survive this and make it back to Aziraphale.

His angel must be so worried about him. Crowley was surely going to miss his date now. There was no way around it. Even if he somehow managed to make it back up to Earth in the next half an hour, there was no way he would be ready to go out anywhere. For one thing, his suit was entirely ruined. The snakeskin shoes on his feet were not made for running and Crowley had stumbled in them more than once already, tearing at the bottom hem of his pants as he fought to stay upright. Several times, he’d felt the slimy filth of the wall brush up against his shoulder as the demon had made a sharp turn one direction or another. It even felt as if the very air itself was filled with particles of grime that clung to him more and more the further he ran.

No, there was absolutely no way Crowley could possibly go on a date with Aziraphale looking like this. When he got back, he would promptly need a shower and a very long nap. They could try again in a few weeks when Crowley was back to normal, assuming Aziraphale was still interested. He would be interested, wouldn’t he? Go- Sat- for  _ Someone’s  _ sake, Crowley hoped he would.

What would Aziraphale think when he showed up at the flat to fetch Crowley? The angel was certain to wait outside the door for some time, politely knocking and talking to him through the wooden barrier. How long would Aziraphale hang around to see if Crowley would respond? A few minutes? More? Would he give up when he realized the demon wasn’t coming to the door to let him in? Would he try and open the door himself?

Please, oh please, don’t let Aziraphale walk into that flat. Crowley’s heart couldn’t stand the thought of the angel running across his dead body just lying there on the floor. The demon still had no idea how he’d ended up down here, but based on the ghostly pain he’d felt on his head at first, it couldn’t have been pretty. If Aziraphale entered his flat, there was no telling what horrors would be waiting for him. There was no way to know whether the culprit was even still in the room, lurking in the shadows, waiting for a chance to strike again.

What if it was a trap? What if whoever had decided to off him was trying to lure Aziraphale in and do the same to the angel? That thought terrified Crowley even more than his current predicament. He had been in Heaven to stand trial in Aziraphale’s place. Crowley had seen with his own two eyes the hatred the Archangels had for the Principality. He had stood witness as the punishment had been dolled out without even the smallest hint of a trial. They had all been too happy to destroy Aziraphale - the only spark of goodness left in all of Heaven.

If Aziraphale found himself back in Heaven, Crowley wasn’t sure the angel would ever be allowed to leave. That thought alone was unthinkable.

Another high-pitched scream echoed in the halls around him, sending a fresh wave of panic through Crowley as he skidded around yet another corner. Coldness soaked into his feet as the demon stumbled through a shallow puddle, splashing blackish-green sludge halfway up his pant leg.

No time to worry about that now. No time to worry about anything at all except for getting away from this  _ bloody nightmare _ before it swallowed him whole. 

_ Shit! _ As he rounded the corner, Crowley could see a crossroads up ahead. A four way intersection with a chilling, grimy looking puddle in the center. There was no way to avoid it. No way to go around. Crowley was going to have to plow right through, picking a direction at random before he even had a chance to see where they all lead. 

Glancing behind him, Crowley caught sight of a flickering image against the far wall. It looked fairly large - larger than him, with a hulking form, two steer-like horns and wings that could easily extend further than the hallway allowed. This either meant one of two things. Either the beast chasing him was ginormous or it was very close. Either way did not bode well for him.

Banking hard to the left, Crowley scurried down the hall, his attention fixed entirely forward. Looking back would only slow him down, and the demon needed to be as fast as possible to escape whatever whispering, screaming nightmare had caught onto his trail. There was no particular reason the demon had chosen one direction over the other. He could have picked any hallway and the result would have been the same. He would still be running for his life down a dark, sludge filled hallway with barely any light to see by.

Hang on. 

Crowley blinked his amber eyes, squinting them against the growing darkness as he continued to run. His footsteps echoed off the stone walls, socks squelching with the newly acquired liquid. Was it getting darker? Where were all the flickering lights? Why did the hallway seem to be getting smaller the longer he ran down it?

With mounting horror, Crowley’s footsteps slowed to a halt. His hands rose shakily out in front of him, fingertips pressing against a series of cold iron bars blocking his advance.

Well, wasn’t this just fucking fantastic?

Gently at first, then with rising effort, the demon gripped the bars, pulling at them, shaking them, begging them to budge. To shift. To let him through. Despite all his tactics, they were unmovable.

Crowley fought to hold in his rasping breath. His legs screamed at him to stop. To rest. Screamed at him to sit down and give them a break, but the demon knew he could not. He could not stop. He could not advance. He could not go back the way he came. The creature was surely right on his tail.

He was going to die here. Crowley bit back a sob, knowing that hiding any noise he made now would do him no good. He was trapped. There was no way out. This  _ thing _ was going to destroy him and he was never going to see Aziraphale again.

How had everything gone so wrong? They had saved the world together - stopped Armageddon. They had traded places to fool Heaven and Hell, to keep each other safe. They had spent six months in paradise, six months of dinners and walks in the park and shows at the theater and being  _ friends _ out in the open. They had been hours away from an actual date. Crowley had been less than a hundred minutes away from spending a romantic evening with the creature he cared about most in all of creation, and now all of that was just  _ gone _ . Gone, with no explanation, no chance to say goodbye.

This was so unfair. Crowley knew he was a demon. He knew he’d done wrong in the past - a lot of wrong. He knew he ultimately deserved this, but Aziraphale? His good-natured, helpful, kind, loving Aziraphale? The angel didn’t deserve to go through this heartache. Didn’t deserve to go through the pain of losing a friend, of Crowley disappearing never to return. 

Whispers grew louder, echoing across the walls, swirling around Crowley like an invisible cloud of smoke. Slowly, he turned around, amber eyes wide, taking in as much light as they could, searching for a way out, somewhere to hide, somewhere to  _ flee. _ He didn’t want to die here. Not without seeing Aziraphale again. But what else could he do?

“SSsssssstupid demon,” he muttered to himself, hating how panicked he sounded. Crowley had gotten good at mastering his speech over the years, but every once in a while, under periods of duress, his hiss would slip back in, the serpent attempting to take over once more. It was rather annoying.

Suddenly, Crowley stopped. He blinked, and turned around, quickly gauging the size of the gap in the bars. Wondering...was it possible?

There was absolutely no reason not to try.

Faster than it probably should have, Crowley felt his body changing. The walls around him grew taller, the gaps in the metal gate larger as he shrunk in on himself. Clothing turned to scales, the red of his hair bleeding onto his belly as his body grew thinner and longer. His eyes shifted across his face to perch on either side of his serpentine nose as demon became serpent, coiling softly to the floor.

Crowley opened his mouth and tasted the air. He reached out with his other senses, feeling for the presence of the creature that was currently hunting him down. If he could only pinpoint it, figure out what in Hell’s name it was. Perhaps that would give Crowley the information he needed to get away.

In an instant, the demon was enveloped with a coldness so strong he would have gasped out loud had he not been in snake form. This  _ thing _ was no ordinary demon. It was more than just evil. It was despair. Hopelessness. Worthlessness. It was darkness deeper than the deepest black. Emptiness more vast than the furthest corners of the universe.

It was oblivion, and it was coming for Crowley.

That sensation was enough to spur the demon to action. Without one more millisecond of hesitation, Crowley began to move. He launched himself at the base of the portcullis, forcing his narrow snout between the two metal bars. The widest gap in the gate was at the bottom, under a layer of murky water, but the demon didn’t care. He dove in face first, wriggling his serpentine body as quickly as it could go, pushing himself through. The only way Crowley survived this was by getting himself to the other side of this barrier.

One. Two. Three. Four. Crowley held his breath, pushing himself forward with amber eyes wide open, gaze fixed on the ground. He watched as the creases in the stone slid by him, too slow for comfort. This wasn’t going to work. He needed to move faster.

The demon lurched and shot forward another half a foot. He twisted and turned and lifted his eyes just above the surface of the water, glancing around to see where he could go next. Speed was of the utmost importance here, and although his serpentine form could wriggle into small places, it wasn’t necessarily very fast. Every second he spent in this configuration was a second for that creature to catch up with him.

_ Just a little bit further. _ Crowley could feel the sides of the metal bars brushing up against the thickest part of him. If he could get that part through, the metal barrier should be enough of a buffer to stop his pursuer long enough for the demon to find somewhere to hide. 

If it wasn’t, he was as good as dead.

Crowley’s heart stopped as he felt the slimy bars dig into his side. His forward momentum stopped abruptly as the demon realized he was too wide to fit.

_ No!  _ This was not happening. Shouldn’t the gross, grimy, dingy sludge that coated this thing be  _ helping _ him to get through? Not the other way around. All he had to do was keep wriggling and everything would be fine. He’d get through the gate. He’d put some distance between himself and that thing and all would be just ‘Tickety-Boo’ as one ridiculous angel would say.

He wriggled. He squirmed and he thrashed and just when Crowley felt like his insides were going to become squeezed and crushed and all mixed together, the slippery sludge did its job and he shot forward into the dark. A heavy splash sounded above his head as the serpent skidded through the rest of the filthy puddle, coming out in one piece on the other side.

If snakes could breathe sighs of relief, Crowley might have taken a moment to do just that. Instead, he slunk off into the shadows, pressing himself up into a crumbling crevice in the wall, coiling in on himself until the demon was sure he would meld into one indistinguishable blob, never to be separated again.

There was no way he could transform now. The whispers were practically right on top of him. If Crowley resumed his humanoid form, he would be seen for sure. Instead, he huddled in the cold and the dark, wishing that he could will himself back to the bookshop where there was always a large patch of sunlight streaming through the window, laying itself across his favorite armchair. What Crowley wouldn’t give to be curled up in that chair right now, the sound of Aziraphale’s voice murmuring in the background as the demon drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

Amber eyes stared unblinking as a shadow appeared on the wall opposite the portcullis. Harsh footsteps sounded against the stone floor, sending vibrations through the earth beneath it outward in all directions.

The first thing he saw were two claw-like feet attached to long legs that looked like they were made for chasing. Further up, a strong, muscular torso set underneath broad shoulders with powerful arms containing claws of their own. The figure’s head was comprised entirely of the skull of a steer larger than one Crowley had ever seen, gazing outward with piercing red eyes that seemed to emit thin spirals of smoke. 

To top it all off, huge batlike wings protruded from the creature’s back, spread open wide as its tendrils of black hair whipped around its skulled face, although there was no breeze nearby to move them. The only clothing the figure wore was a scrap of leather fabric tied around its waist, the rest of its ashen skin writhing with darkness. The particles seemed to emanate from it, flitting around in a near proximity, sucking the light and the warmth from the air. Whispering incoherent nothings into the darkness.

_ You cannot run forever, _ the whispering voices coalesced into one sound, one thought, overlapping with each other, each projecting its own promise of fear and pain and total oblivion, striking icy terror into Crowley’s very soul.  _ Eventually, you will tire and I will find you. I will always find you.  _

The creature hovered outside the gate a moment longer, its burning crimson eyes flickering back and forth, looking for any sign of movement. Any hint that Crowley was nearby. The demon froze. He did not move a single muscle, knowing that in that moment, his life depended on it. If he ever wanted to see Aziraphale again, He. Could. Not. Move.

Then, with a rush of whispers and a piercing scream, the creature turned away, meandering down a different hallway than the one they’d run down earlier. Looking for a way around the metal barrier in its path. Looking for the quickest way to Crowley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday everyone!
> 
> This one was super fun to write. I'm having a blast expounding on this soul-devouring creature Lei_sam created in their comic. There will definitely be more to come on them later! Crowley's gotten away for now, but he's certainly not out of hot water yet.
> 
> Stay tuned to see what ideas Aziraphale can come up with to bring Crowley back to Earth. See you all on Tuesday!


	6. Chapter 5

He was trapped. Trapped in a never ending maze of dark, dingy hallways. Lights flickered against the walls, casting twisting shadows of monster-like figures as he passed by. Whispers echoed around him like a swirling fog, following him wherever he went. No matter how long he walked, the whispers only grew louder, the shadows ever closer. 

This hallway was impossibly long. He had to have been walking for days and days and still there was no end in sight. Nothing ever changed down here. It was just him and the hallway and the echo of his footsteps against the stone floors. The whispers that surrounded him and the shadows that crept ever closer, their flashes of wide horns and sharp claws and needle-like teeth sending lightning strikes of terror to his very core.

Finally, he reached a turn. There was only one way to go, so he took it, hoping that this way would lead him out. Would let him get back home.

Instead, he began to hear another set of footsteps, quiet at first, but growing louder with each beat of his foot against the floor. He turned around and saw nothing but a dark passage and the fierce glow of ruby red eyes locked on his own. Panic overtook him and he began to run. Faster and faster and faster, trying to get away from whatever was on his tail. He had to get away.

The blue flickering lights turned red as the burning eyes drew closer, casting their crimson light upon the hallway as he ran. Flickering shadows began to peel away from the walls, reaching out for him, their claws tearing at his pants, his shirt, his hair. They were going to tear him to pieces. He was going to die down here, lost and alone and filled to the brim with fear and regret. 

He stumbled, foot catching on a crack in the floor. Hands outstretched in front of him, he caught himself on the cold stone floor, water soaking up through his knees as they fell into the shallow pool at his feet. He blinked, looking down at the swirling water beneath him, watching as the red light behind his head grew brighter and brighter. He tried to move, tried to stand up and keep running, but he was frozen in place, staring at the reflection beneath him, willing the water to steady so he could see clearly. He didn’t know why, but he knew this moment was important. It had to be. He  _ needed  _ the water to still so he could see.

When it finally did, he was met with a pair of bright amber eyes blown wide with fear, a heartbeat before the red light swallowed him whole.

Adam shot up in his bed, the sound of a scream dying in his throat. Air rushed into his lungs as he gasped for breath, hands trembling as he clutched at the bedspread that had tangled itself around him like the shadow creatures in his dream.

What a dream - what a  _ nightmare _ that had been. He’d never experienced something so intense before. The whole thing had felt so real. Adam had never once feared for his life, not even when the world had been ending. Not even when he’d faced down Death himself, but now? The boy shuddered at the ghost of the memory. He had been terrified. During that nightmare, he’d  _ known _ that he’d met his end. That the red-eyed creature was going to destroy him and he would never be seen from again.

There was no point in going back to sleep now, not when the shadows in his room clung to the walls so menacingly. Panic gripped at Adam’s heart and he flung the covers aside, nimbly dodging around blocks and legos and remote control cars as he raced to the light switch on the far wall. The shadows around him seemed to bend as he moved, following him, trying to reach the wall before he did, to prevent him from saving himself from the darkness that was slowly closing in. 

Without a second thought, the boy lunged forward and slammed his palm into the switch, flipping upward with one fluid motion. Light filled the room, pushing the shadows back away from him and giving the boy some solace from the darkness.

Slowly, Adam breathed a sigh of relief, his mouth suddenly feeling very dry. Technically, he wasn’t supposed to leave his bedroom this late at night, or early in the morning, as it now was. His parents didn’t want him sneaking downstairs to watch late-night cartoons or play video games when he was supposed to be sleeping. His bed was in his room and there was an adjoining bathroom, should the need arise. In their minds, there was absolutely no reason the boy should have to go downstairs before sunrise.

Unfortunately for Adam, he was not the biggest fan of room temperature tap water. Maybe, if he was really quiet, no one would notice him sneaking down to grab a quick glass of fresh ice water. And perhaps, if he went unnoticed still, the boy would be able to manage a quick phone call to a friend.

That nightmare had been more than just a bad dream. Adam was sure of it now, more than ever. Now that the darkness around him had momentarily been shoved aside, the boy could breathe easier and  _ think. _ At the end, as he’d been staring in the pool of water, Adam had caught a glimpse of bright amber eyes. Amber eyes filled with helplessness and fear, so strong, it had jolted the boy from his slumber.

He knew those eyes. He had seen them once before.

No one in the house stirred. Not when he shut the door to his room with a soft click. Not when he slid down the carpeted steps as fast as he could, heart hammering away in his chest. Not when he reached the kitchen and flipped the light switch on, the panic in his chest only receding with the presence of that familiar golden glow. His parents slept soundly, and once Adam had poured himself a large plastic glass of the coldest water he could find, the boy turned to face the telephone hanging on the painted-grey wall.

With shaking fingers, he dialed the number. Anathema picked up on the second ring.

“Hello?”

“Um, hey, Anathema?” Adam began, trying to keep his voice down as quiet as possible. He was very aware of how timid he sounded in the moment and wished he’d thought to drink some water before giving her a call. His voice barely made a sound at all. “I need some help.”

Her voice was warm, comforting, and in just a few words she managed to banish the lingering fear still in the boy’s heart. “What can I do for you, Adam?”

“I think Mr. Crowley is in trouble.”

* * *

Anathema prided herself on being intelligent. She had always been top of her class in school. She was quick-witted, clever, and had a knack for puzzles and riddles and all activities that required her to stretch her mind out a bit. So, it was a rather frustrating experience when she arrived at the Soho bookshop to find the door locked, ‘closed’ sign visible for all to see, and the following message posted in the window.

_ I open the shop on most weekdays about 9:30 or perhaps 10am. While occasionally I open the shop as early as 8, I have been known not to open until 1, except on Tuesday. I tend to close about 3:30pm, or earlier if something needs tending to. However, I might occasionally keep the shop open until 8 or 9 at night, you never know when you might need some light reading. On days that I am not in, the shop will remain closed. On weekends, I will open the shop during normal hours unless I am elsewhere. Bank holidays will be treated in the usual fashion, with early closing on Wednesdays, or sometimes Fridays. (For Sundays see Tuesdays). _

_ A.Z. Fell, Bookseller _

Today was Thursday, precisely 2:15 in the afternoon. The perfect time to ensure he would be open. It was exactly halfway between his latest posted opening time and earliest posted closing time, if you ignored the caveats about ‘being elsewhere’ or ‘something needing tending to’, Aziraphale should be here. So why couldn’t she get in?

It was like he was purposefully trying to confuse customers and keep people away. Anathema rolled her eyes and smiled fondly to herself. The nerve of that angel.

Pursing her lips, the woman knocked gently on the door once more, wanting to give Aziraphale the benefit of the doubt. Wanting to believe her friend wasn’t purposefully trying to ignore her. Perhaps he truly was busy. Perhaps he had some important business to attend to and couldn’t take a moment to step away from it to come and answer the door. 

She knew he was still inside the shop. Anathema could sense his aura from outside on the front step. The first time she had met Aziraphale, on the night Crowley had run into her bike with his car, she’d sensed something different about the two of them. The sensation had stuck with her for a while and only after learning they were a demon and angel did everything finally click into place.

“Aziraphale,” she called, leaning in to peek in through the gap in the curtain. “Aziraphale, open up. I need to talk to you.”

Movement sounded from inside the bookshop, although it was muffled and impossible to make out any precise details. Anathema waited patiently for the door to open. When it did not, she tried again. 

“Aziraphale,” she knocked a little harder this time, raising the volume of her voice. “Adam asked me to come. Will you please open the door?”

That seemed to do the trick, because less than a second ticked by and Anathema heard the distinct ‘click’ of the door unlocking itself. Not wanting to waste another second, the woman pushed on the handle and let herself in.

The second she crossed the threshold into the bookshop, Anathema stopped, brown eyes wide. There were books  _ everywhere _ . Yes, this was a bookshop, and yes, it was old, but she expected there to be some sort of order to it all. Instead, the young woman found herself face to face with a maze comprised entirely of stacks of books all at least waist high, scattered about the floor like a series of properly placed mines. It was a wonder the angel was able to move about at all with all these obstacles in his way.

She spotted him across the room, sitting at an old writing desk, pouring over a mountain of tomes. This wasn’t just a desk with a handful of books spread around. Aziraphale had stacked five books up on top of one another, a pile that was completely separate from the other seven all on the same surface. Not to mention the tent of scrolls he had strewn across the room, long pieces of parchment connecting various stacks of books, forcing Anathema to duck underneath them as she slowly made her way to the angel’s side.

“Adam sent you here?”

Anathema didn’t know what she’d been expecting when she arrived here. After Adam had called her the previous night and recounted the terrible dream he’d experienced, the woman had expected some kind of bad news. She had braced herself for the inevitable - Crowley had been summoned back to Hell. He was off on some secret mission. The demon had upset some other being with his lighthearted wiles and was now paying the price for it.

She had not expected to waltz in and find Aziraphale at his wit’s end. Although, thinking back to what she knew about them, she probably should have. The pair had a bond - she’d known that much from the first time they’d met. Of course Aziraphale would be worried about his friend. According to Adam, he had good reason to be.

The tremor in Aziraphale’s voice, the way his bright blue eyes glistened with unshed tears, the pure, agonizing  _ hope _ that exuded from him in that moment made her heart ache.

What had happened to Crowley?

“Where is Crowley?” she asked softly, dodging his unspoken ‘why’. If Aziraphale didn’t know - if he wasn’t aware that the demon was in any trouble, should she really tell him? It would only upset him even more, and based on the state this bookshop was already in, Aziraphale had been researching something for quite some time. Perhaps he already knew. Perhaps there was nothing he could do.

Blue eyes blinked and a single tear fell across his pale, round cheek. “Oh, my dear,” the angel breathed, moving to stand. Anathema took a gentle step back to give him room, careful not to knock the stack of books over that was positioned directly behind her. “I’m afraid Crowley is gone, for the time being.”

Gone. Alright. That wasn’t exactly specific, but Aziraphale had said ‘for the time being’. That implied the demon wasn’t gone  _ forever, _ right?

“How long will he be gone?” she asked, gently, stomach twisting unpleasantly inside her body. “Where did he go?”

Aziraphale sighed, and in that moment, he looked older than Anathema had ever seen him. She knew he was an angel, knew he had been on Earth since the beginning. For a six-thousand year old being, the angel normally appeared a spry forty or fifty years old. Now, if she knew nothing about him, Anathema might have believed it if someone had told her he was several thousand years old.

“Crowley has been…discorporated. Someone, another demon, killed his body. He’s been sent back down to Hell until he can find a new one.”

The angel paused, and Anathema held her breath. She didn’t like where this conversation was heading. Didn’t like the look of loss in Aziraphale’s eyes. Didn’t like the way her hear was beating rapidly in her chest, like the angel was about to deliver the worst kind of news.

Oh god, he was, wasn’t he?

“It could be...some time, before Crowley can return to Earth,” Aziraphale explained, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his grief. Anathema didn’t need to see auras to know the angel was hurting - deeply. “Hell isn’t exactly pleased with him after what happened last autumn. It could be a few years, or maybe a decade or two or - “ he broke off, blue eyes finally lowering themselves to the floor.

“Or, he could be gone for the rest of your lifetime.”

What? Crowley could be gone...for the rest of her lifetime. She was barely twenty years old. There was a good chance she could live to be eighty, ninety, maybe a  _ hundred _ years old. And Aziraphale was standing here telling her that Crowley could take that long or longer to return to Earth with a new body.

She might never see the demon again.

“Oh, Aziraphale,” she breathed, pushing down her own hurt. Anathema had known the demon all of six months. The angel in front of her had known him for millenia. Her pain was nothing compared to what he must be going through. “I am so sorry.”

Another tear made its escape from Aziraphale’s eyes, sliding its way down his other cheek. “It’s quite alright, dear,” he sniffled in a way that made it clear that things were very much not alright. “We used to go centuries without seeing hide nor hair of each other. It will take some readjusting, but I’m sure the time will pass by eventually.”

He wasn’t lying to her, but Anathema could tell he wasn’t telling her the whole truth either. Adam’s dream had left her with the impression that the demon was not simply waiting in line down in Hell for a new body to be given to him. Aziraphale’s hesitancy with her only served to confirm her suspicions. Fearing what the angel might reveal if she pushed further, the woman changed tactics. 

“Do you think,” she began, lifting a hand to play with the ends of her long hair. “Would you like to put together a memorial for Crowley?” Anathema had no idea how Aziraphale might take this idea. She was sure that over the years the angel had been forced to say goodbye to many of his friends. He would have to say goodbye to her too, when her time came. It was all a part of an immortal’s life, she supposed.

Saying goodbye to Crowley was probably something Aziraphale had never had to face before. The angel should 

“It might be nice for all of us to get together again,” she prompted when he did not immediately respond. “You, me and Newt. The kids. I bet I could even get Madame Tracey and Sargent Shadwell to come. It doesn’t have to be anything big.” She was rambling now, but Aziraphale’s blank stare and tearstained cheeks was becoming all too much for her. If the angel was this distraught, it meant Crowley was never coming back. That, she just couldn’t accept. Anathema could live without seeing her friend again. She could say goodbye, if she had to.

But not Aziraphale. Not the sweet, kind-hearted angel she’d grown to adore. He didn’t deserve this kind of pain. Anathema refused to believe Crowley was gone forever. At the same time, she was determined to give the angel, and the rest of their friends, the chance to properly process their pain.

“We could have a few snacks. Play some music Crowley liked, and sit around drinking and telling stories about him, if that would make you feel better.” She offered him a hesitant smile. “I know it would help me.” 

Aziraphale sniffled and smiled back at her. It was the first one she’d seen all day that didn’t look entirely forced. The sight filled Anathema’s heart with warmth and she felt tears of her own pricking at the corners of her eyes. Hastily, she blinked them away.

“Yes,” he pulled a handkerchief out of his vest pocket and dabbed softly at his eyes. “I suppose that does sound quite nice. Let’s do it. Let’s put together a nice memorial for Crowley.”

* * *

Ultimately, they decided on a small, intimate gathering held at Anathema’s cottage. All four of the Them showed up, along with Sargent Shadwell and Madame Tracey. Newton was there too, of course. He practically lived with Anathema now, and the man was determined to help out as much as he possibly could in setting up for the event.

There wasn’t much to be done, if Aziraphale was honest. Anathema had taken care of all the food. They’d pulled together some of Crowley’s favorites. Wine, mostly, and sparkling juice for the children. Some slices of angel food cake, a bowl of popcorn, various assortments of chocolates. Aziraphale had even convinced Anathema to put out a plate of apple slices, not because the demon had particularly  _ enjoyed _ apples, but because the thought of what Crowley’s reaction would have been if he’d been here to witness the display was too entertaining to pass up.

Before the event started, Aziraphale made his way over to Adam at the snack table, waiting patiently for the boy to grab his slice of cake. Once the angel was sure the boy wasn’t about to drop anything, he pulled Adam to the side, heart hammering away in his chest.

“Adam, dear boy,” Aziraphale began, wishing he didn’t sound so nervous. He knew this was a long shot, but if Adam could help in any way, didn’t the angel owe it to Crowley to ask. “I was wondering, well, Anathema mentioned you had been the one to send her to speak with me. I assume that means you had some inkling as to where Crowley might be, and I was wondering - I was hoping - “

Aziraphale stopped, biting at the inside of his mouth so hard he tasted blood. Get to the point. Adam didn’t have all day.

“Would you be so inclined to bring him back?”

A rush of air left Aziraphale’s chest as he finally forced the question from his lips. He could do it. Adam  _ could _ do it, couldn’t he? The boy had brought Atlantis up from the ocean floor. He’d created aliens and spaceships and banished Satan back to Hell and saved the  _ world _ . Surely he had it in him to bring one demon back to Earth. It would be easy work for the Antichrist.

Adam’s face fell, Aziraphale’s hope along with it. He should have known this was too good to be true. Why could his life never be easy?

“I’m sorry, Mr. Aziraphale,” the boy answered respectfully, “I would if I could, but I’m just a normal kid now. I don’t have my powers anymore.”

“Are you sure?” Aziraphale found himself asking desperately instead of simply walking away like he should have. “Could you at least try, please?”

The boy frowned, but lifted up his hands, offering Azirphale his plate full of cake. The angel took it from him quickly, heart hammering away in his chest. He shouldn’t bother trying to hope, it would only lead to heartache in the end, but Aziraphale found he couldn’t help himself. Just the thought that Crowley might reappear before him with a few simple words from Adam was enough to bring tears of relief to his eyes.

_ Please, oh please let this work.  _ The angel stood transfixed in the hallway, his eyes never leaving Adam’s face as the boy scrunched it up in concentration, preparing for what came next.  _ Please let me see Crowley again. _

“Crowley, come back.”

Nothing. The boy had said the command with as much fervor as he had six months ago, but Crowley still wasn’t here. Adam really was just a normal boy now. There was nothing he could do to help Aziraphale. There was nothing anyone could do.

Aziraphale thanked Adam quietly, handing the boy back his cake. Silently, the angel watched as Adam scampered back to his friends, heart heavy with loss. He and Anathem had pulled this thing together to give the humans all a chance to say their goodbyes, but to Aziraphale, it felt an awful lot like he was being forced to say goodbye too. 

_ No.  _ He wasn’t ready to give up. Not yet. There had to be a way to get Crowley back. He just needed a little more time. Some more research and he could figure it out. Aziraphale wouldn’t rest until he did.

But for now, he could put aside his worry for the evening and give his friends the closure they needed.

“Thank you all for coming,” Anathema announced later, once they’d all had their fill of food and fellowship. “I’m sorry it had to be under such circumstances, but I want you all to know how much it means that you could be here tonight.”

The young woman turned toward the end of the room where they had set up a small table in honor of Crowley. At the center of the table sat one of the gardenia plants the demon had left behind, along with a pair of sunglasses, a framed photograph of his Bentley, and a single white feather. They were the only things left on Earth that Crowley had owned. The only things the demon had really cared for, in the end.

Aziraphale didn’t possess one of his friend’s black feathers, so he’d had to make due with one of his own. The angel hoped Crowley wouldn’t mind. In all honesty, if Crowley had been here to see this, he would have rolled his eyes behind a pair of those sunglasses and groaned in embarrassment. This would have all been too  _ sentimental _ for him. The demon would have absolutely hated it.

The thought made Aziraphale smile, if only a little.

“Right,” Anathema continued after a moment of silence. “I think it might be nice if we all went around and said a few words. It doesn't have to be anything grand, and you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.” She paused for a moment, looking around at everyone until her eyes came to rest on Aziraphale. Slowly, the angel nodded in her direction, letting her know he was ready to begin.

Aziraphale would have been lying if he said he’d listened to everything that his friend said that night. The angel was entirely too preoccupied with his own thoughts, stomach churning as he fought with the words he was planning on saying. How could he possibly put it all into words? There weren’t enough words in all of the languages on Earth to describe what Crowley meant to him.

He caught the bit about Crowley running into Anathema on her bike, and how the kids thought it was cool he’d driven in a car while it was on fire. Even Shadwell had something nice to say, although Aziraphale was pretty sure his recollection of the demon’s assistance with a witch hunt a few years back was entirely made up.

Finally, once all the others were done, Aziraphale stepped forward to say his part, hands wringing together in front of him as he raised his blue eyes to glance at each of their faces, one by one.

“Crowley was my best friend,” the angel admitted. “For so many years. It took me so long to recognize what he meant to me, and even longer to say it out loud.” Tears were pooling in his eyes, but this time Aziraphale didn’t hold them back. The whole reason for this evening was to give them all a chance to mourn properly. Was it really a memorial service if no tears were shed?

“Through all the important times in my life,” the angel continued, after taking a swig from his glass, “Crowley was there for me. He was there to celebrate my achievements.” Aziraphale paused, remembering how his friend had showed up to the bookstore on opening day in 1800 with a box of celebratory chocolates for them to share. “He was there to comfort me in times of pain.” Oh, there had been so many of those. Too many to count. 

“I know I will see him again someday,” Aziraphale vowed, bringing his speech to an end. “And I hope that day will be soon, but until then - “ he looked around the room, smiling softly at the group of people, the humans, who had come out tonight to support him as much as they were here to remember Crowley. “Until then, I will remember him with fondness in my heart.”

With the heartfelt words said and done, they moved onto the part of the evening Crowley would have liked the best. Newton popped a CD in the player and cranked up the music. Brian passed out sunglasses for everyone and they made a toast. To the demon who may not have been the best demon in the world, but who had easily become their favorite. To the demon that had stepped up to do his part to save the world. To the demon that was their friend, now, and always.

Throughout the rest of the night, they sang, and they drank, and they laughed and they drank some more, and for the first time in weeks, Aziraphale didn’t feel quite so alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good Morning everyone (Or afternoon or evening, depending on where you live)! It's Tuesday, which means we are back with another installment of this story. Since we've got alternating chapters, Tuesdays will (for the most part) be following Aziraphale's story, while Fridays will be checking in on Crowley's POV. That may change later on in the story, but for now, that is what you should be expecting.
> 
> If you like what you've read so far, feel free to let us know :) reading comments is the absolute highlight of my day <3
> 
> On Friday, we'll dive back in to Crowley's situation and see if he can find a way out of the trouble he's landed himself in. Stay tuned!


	7. Chapter 6

At this point, Crowley would have given anything to have his watch working once more.

It was maddening, roaming these repetitive halls with no sense of how much time had passed. There was absolutely no way for him to know. His watch was inoperable. There was no exit to the outside world down here. No way for him to gauge based on the cycle of the sun. Crowley didn’t feel hunger like normal humans did. He didn’t need to drink water, didn’t need to use the bathroom. And now that he no longer had his corporation, the demon didn’t even grow facial hair.

There was absolutely no indication of how much time had passed. Had he been down here a few hours? Days? Had it been over a week? No matter how much he tried, Crowley had been unable to come up with an answer.

So many times, Crowley had wanted to give up. He wanted to sit down, lean his back up against the cool wall, and just shut his eyes. It had been some time since the demon had seen any sign of that  _ creature _ that had been chasing him before. Crowley wasn’t stupid enough to believe he was in the clear yet, but he did take the opportunity to slow himself down. There was no point in running now that he wasn’t in immediate danger. The sound of his racing footsteps would likely only alert that monster to his presence, which was the absolute last thing he wanted.

What even was that thing? Crowley had never heard of such a creature before. He knew it was a demon - there was no other alternative. Some undetermined time ago, he had been discorporated, which meant he was somewhere in Hell. Only demons lived in Hell. Therefore, the only conclusion Crowley could make was that thing with the skull head and glowing red eyes was a demon.

No matter how insane that sounded, he knew it had to be true. What kind of demon lurked in the depths of Hell alone? What kind of demon hunted others? He’d never heard of anything like this before. Granted, Crowley had made it a point to spend as little time in Hell as possible over the centuries, but surely if this was a problem, someone would have mentioned it.

Maybe it wasn’t a widespread problem. Maybe he’d landed himself in some remote corner of Hell where no one else went. If that was the case, his need to get the fuck out of here had just increased a hundredfold. There was no way he wanted to be stuck down here a second longer with this unknown threat in a part of Hell where there was no one around to hear him scream.

Not that anyone would come running to save him, even if they could hear him. Not after what had happened the last time “he” was down here. Not after what he’d done to Ligur.

Everything felt so hopeless, but Crowley wasn’t going to give up. Aziraphale was up there waiting for him and Crowley wasn’t going to let his angel go through the rest of his time on Earth alone.

The demon could have cried tears of joy the moment he came across another gate. It was similar to the last one, made entirely of rusting metal bars that hung vertically from the stone archway above. But this one,  _ this one _ had a set of stairs on the other side leading in the upward direction. He was saved. This had to be the way out.

Crowley reached for the bars, trying and failing to suppress a shiver as the chilling metal seemed to seep into his exposed hands. He tugged at the bars once, twice, three times, glancing around warily as the sound of metal scraping against stone echoed around him. Heart in his throat, Crowley waited and listened, not daring to breathe.

There was nothing. No sudden coldness in the air. No hairs standing up at the back of his neck. No chilling whispers or haunting screams. The creature was nowhere in sight.

Slowly, the demon turned back to face the gate. He’d dealt with one before, Crowley was sure he could do it again. These bars looked no different from the last ones. It had been a tight fit, but by using his snake form, Crowley had made it through. This time, there was no puddle of water to squirm through and no terrifying creature trying to catch up to him. As Aziraphale would say, it should have been ‘Tickety-Boo’.

‘Should have been’ was the key phrase there. Crowley wasted no time in shifting forms. Once again, he allowed his body to collapse on itself, slower this time, as he was not in a race to escape a very unfortunate fate. He felt his limbs begin to fuse together, his skin begin to cover itself in scales. Eyes shifted positions on his head as Crowley’s face began to morph and his surroundings began to grow larger and larger as his body grew smaller and smaller.

Once the transformation was complete, the demon opened his mouth, tongue flicking through the air. Still no sign of the beast that had chased him earlier. Had he been able to, Crowley would have breathed a sigh of relief. Quickly, the serpent turned his head back toward the gate and crept forward, feeling rather than seeing where he was going.

Cold metal brushed up against his nose and the demon stopped. He’d found the gate. Now, all he had to do was slip through it and he would be one step closer to getting home. Crowley move his head to the left and pushed forward. Once again he felt the chill of the bar against his skin and he was forced to stop.

What was going on? The bars shouldn’t be this close together. Why couldn’t he get through?

Crowley tried again. He slithered over to the far side of the gate until he tasted stone on the tip of his tongue. Deliberately, he shoved his face down into the ground where he knew the gap was the widest. He turned his body sideways, trying to force his way through, but there was nowhere to go. It was as if the hole had shrunk in size.

No matter. Crowley was nothing if not flexible. What did it matter if the gap in the bars was thinner than he had originally thought? Shrinking down to a smaller snake wasn’t so difficult. It would take a bit of concentration on his part not to slip back into his natural size. He winced at the thought, imagining what the cold steel bars digging into his sides would feel like if he lost his focus even once.

The demon turned his attention to the metallic barrier in front of him, imagining the sensation of gritted teeth and a furrowed brow. A snake had no way to display the image of immense concentration, but Crowley wasn’t going to let that stand in his way. If anyone had been down here in this prison of a maze to see him, they would have felt his desire burning in the air around him.

He was going to do this. He was going to get through and then he was going to race back to Aziraphale’s side. Nothing in all of Heaven or Hell would stop him from seeing his angel again.

_ Hang on, Aziraphale _ , the demon thought to himself as his form shrunk even further.  _ I’m on my way. _

When he’d reached approximately a tenth of his original size, Crowley stopped and took a moment to feel around him once more. This should be more than good enough to slip through with little to no effort.

Crowley moved forward again and was surprised to feel that same metal bar brushing up against the right side of his face as his left side touched the stone wall. How was that possible? He’d been just on one side of too big earlier. How could he still not be able to fit at a tenth his original size?

The demon moved down the hall. One by one, he tested the openings against the floor, arriving at the same dilemma every time. He rose up off the ground a few inches and tried the gaps further up. This time his nose managed to slip through, but the momentum stopped when his eyes drew level with the front of the gate.

Impossible. Crowley slid backward through the hall until he was pressed up against the opposite wall. Facing the gate, the demon glared at it for a moment, as best as a demon in snake form could glare. His eyesight was not the best down here. The damp, chilly corridors turned almost everything around him into a dull, darkish grey, with the flickering lights upon the wall his only source of warmth to hone in on. Their location on either side of the gate did nothing to help him see the outline of the metal bars in front of him - not with his current set of eyes, that were better suited to detecting the slight variations in temperature than actual visual cues.

No. If Crowley wanted to really see what was going on, he was going to have to transform back.

It took a lot of his energy to force his body from one form to another, and even more if he was trying to do so in a very specific way. Normally, Crowley would simply focus his attention on one end or the other. He would let his instincts take over and allow his body to shift however it wanted to through the in-between phases.

This time, Crowley needed to do things in a specific order. He needed his normal eyesight back first,  _ before  _ he started to grow in size. That was the only way to see what in the world was going on with this blasted gate.

So, with more mental capacity than he had the right to possess in that moment, Crowley began to change. The image in front of him began to lighten as his eyes shifted around toward the front of his face. He fixed all his remaining attention on the collection of metal bars in front of him and the set of stone steps just beyond that. The steps that were his ticket out of here. 

Cold dread filled him as the demon began to grow in size once more. Before his very eyes, the bars began to grow with him, they expanded in thickness, spreading themselves out so that the gap between each rung was just too small for him to fit through. How was this possible? What kind of place was this, with terrifying monsters and magical barriers that wouldn’t let him pass?

He was truly and utterly trapped. Crowley finished his transformation, the back of his suit scraping up against the stone wall as he collapsed to the floor, amber eyes wide and unseeing. Someway, somehow, the barrier had altered itself to prevent him from going through. There was an exit  _ right there,  _ a staircase that would lead him home - would lead him to Aziraphale, and it didn’t matter. He couldn’t get through.

Tears filled the demon’s eyes and Crowley buried his face in his knees, letting out a strangled sob. “Aziraphale…” he moaned as the heart inside his chest began to crumble. What was he supposed to do now? Where was he supposed to go? How was he ever going to get home?

“Aziraphale, please,” the demon whispered into the nothingness around him, praying that his best friend would somehow hear him, even though deep down he knew it was impossible. “Please help me get out of this mess.” 

As much as he hated to admit it, Crowley wished Aziraphale were here more than anything. They’d stood against Heaven and Hell. They’d stopped the end of the world. There was nothing they couldn’t do,  _ together. _ If Aziraphale were here, he would know what to do. If Aziraphale were here, they would figure it out together, just like they’d done everything else in their lives.

Aziraphale wasn’t here. He was back on Earth, probably sick with worry, and Crowley was trapped in the deepest bowels of Hell. Completely and utterly alone.

Sniffling, the demon wiped his tears away, frustration and anger seeping into his chest like the tiniest spark of a flame. The breaths he drew in and out to calm himself down only seemed to fuel the newfound emotions, and soon enough Crowley found himself moving to stand, amber eyes narrowing back in on the gate.

There was something there, etched into the stone on the left-hand side. So small, Crowley had missed it the first time. With cautious steps, the demon approached the gate once more and brushed his fingers against the mark, brow furrowed in confusion.

It was a name. Just as the mark by Crowley’s right ear identified him as “Crowley”, other demonic marks were used to differentiate between other demons. He didn’t need to be familiar with this particular mark to know what it meant. All demons could read the marks and understand.

“Cortaz,” Crowley muttered to himself. It wasn’t a name he recognized, but that was hardly surprising. There were close to ten million demons down here in Hell. Crowley was lucky enough to only be acquainted with a few dozen.

A frown still etched upon his face, Crowley turned back to the gate in front of him. Tentatively, he brought his hand forward and slipped it through the opening, squeezing his eyes as he did so, waiting for the worst to come.

Nothing happened. Crowley didn’t know exactly what he had been expecting. A shock of electricity, his hand to start vaporizing right before his eyes, some kind of booby trap to fall down from the ceiling and slice it off.  _ Something _ to give him any other clue as to what might be happening here. There was nothing.

Or, perhaps it wasn’t nothing. The gate was against him getting out completely, but not crossing over the threshold. Interesting, but not entirely helpful information. Still, the fact that he could reach through the bars was something. Maybe, just maybe, there was something to be seen on the other side.

The problem with that theory was Crowley couldn’t  _ see _ much of what was on the other side except for the staircase. The bars were too narrow to fit his head through, only his long, skinny arms. Still, not entirely helpful, but it was something.

Crowley leaned forward and rested his head between two of the bars, wincing at the cold that seemed to seep directly from the bars right into his core.  _ Think.  _ There had to be something he was missing. Some sort of clue. Some sort of loophole he could exploit. He found his way into Eden all of those years ago on his own, hadn’t he? What made this predicament any different? He  _ could  _ figure his way out of here. Crowley just had to think a little harder.

Subconsciously, the demon’s hands fell to his pockets. He paused, looking down as he pulled out a pair of shiny black sunglasses. For a moment, Crowley just stared down at his reflection on the glass, grimacing at how dirty he looked. Grime coated his cheeks and his forehead. His hair was sticking up in all the wrong places and the collar of his beautiful, expensive white dress shirt had practically turned brown. He was a total disaster.

Hang on. 

The demon paused. He could see his reflection practically perfectly. Maybe there was something he could do after all.

Without waiting another second, Crowley reached back through the bars, sunglasses in hand. He cursed himself internally as they began to tremble, making the image almost impossible for him to decipher. “Pull yourssself together,” the demon hissed at himself. This was no time to be losing his cool. With one final breath in, Crowley forced himself to relax and he focused his eyes on the object in his hands.

_ There. _ He was right. There was something carved into the wall on one side of the door. Quickly, the demon shifted the glass object in his hands and saw to his amazement that the exact same symbol was repeated on the other side of the gate, exactly level with the other one so that if someone were to draw a straight line between the two, it would create a barrier striking horizontally through each of the metal bars. 

These carvings were much more intricate than the first one had been. He could tell immediately that these were done with painstaking care. There was not an indentation out of place. If these markings had been carved by artists, the first one Crowley had seen was the work of a child. They were that different in style, and apparently in meaning too.

On his side of the wall was the mark of a demon. A single name with nothing else to go along with it. If he had to guess, Crowley would have said the mark was made by a demon like himself, wandering around the tunnels, lost and alone, trying to make sense of this never ending maze. Trying to leave a trail so he’d know where he’d been.

The carvings on the other side of the wall were much more significant. They said more than just a name. These markings had a power to them that Crowley could not explain. He could see the energy swirling an inky black and blue within the crevices, illuminating the air around each of them with a soft, almost imperceptible glow. 

It was a seal. A powerful one that had been placed here a very long time ago.

He glanced at the image again, reaching out his other arm to help keep the sunglasses steady. There had to be some kind of clue here. Something to help him figure out what he was up against. Something to help him get home again.

A few seconds later, he saw it, and Crowley growled in frustration. There, right next to each of the original markings was an additional, very familiar one. It was so small compared to the others that Crowley had missed it the first time, but it was obvious to him now. Someone had added his mark to the wall, effectively trapping him down here as long as that seal was still in place.

Fuck. He could just  _ not _ catch a break, could he?

“Who is Belial?” Crowley asked aloud, his attention drifting back to the swirling black and blue light as he read the name on the larger sigil. With no real reasoning, his mind immediately filled with images of ruby red eyes, dagger-like claws, and wide wings surrounded in darkness. He shivered in spite of himself. “And why did someone want to lock them away down here?”

So many questions, and no one around to help answer them.

Crowley paused mid thought, pulling the sunglasses back toward him and tucking them safely away in his pocket. He took a step back and examined the mark on his side of the wall one more time, just to be sure. Once he was convinced that’s all it was - just a name carved into stone with no other properties to it - the demon allowed himself to smile, if only slightly.

He was trapped, that much was indisputable, but perhaps Crowley wasn’t entirely on his own after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday, everyone!
> 
> This chapter was another enjoyable one to write (I love writing all of them, but at this part of the story, Crowley's narative is fascinating to me. You will see why in a few weeks!). I hope you all enjoyed it too!
> 
> I hope you all have a fantastic weekend :) see everyone on Tuesday for an update on Aziraphale!
> 
> Kudos and comments are much appreciated! I want you to know I read each and every one and even one comment is enough to make my entire day <3
> 
> Also, if you haven't read Lei_sam's comic "The Ineffable Plan", you really should :)
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/19926673/chapters/47182546
> 
> Don't forget to give them some love! This story wouldn't be possible without them.


	8. Chapter 7

Aziraphale was no artist. He’d tried once at the end of the 19th century after he’d attended an annual art exhibition in Paris and saw “Starry Night Over the Rhone” for the first time. The angel wasn’t really one for trying new things, but at the time, Crowley had been absent for quite a while and he had grown bored. Learning the Gavotte had turned out well for him, so Aziraphale had tried his hand at learning how to paint, thinking it might be just as enjoyable, if not more.

Unfortunately for him, there seemed to be some kind of disconnect between his mind and his hands. No matter how hard he tried, things didn’t turn out the way he wanted them to. The angel could visualize what he wanted to create easily, but when it came time to transfer it to paper or canvas, something always went awry. Eventually, after several years of dabbling, he gave up. 

Not this time. This time, the stakes were too high. This time, everything had to be perfect.

After hours of meticulous work, hours of erasing and redrawing and kneeling on the cold wooden floorboards, the angel finally rose to his feet and looked down at his masterpiece. Aziraphale felt a small smile creep across his face, the first one he’d experienced in several weeks. This was going to work. After weeks of research and planning and practice, he’d finally done it. 

He’d finally perfected his summoning circle.

The entire contents of the bookshop had been displaced. All the shelves had been moved to the side, all the furniture miraculously crammed into the back room. The large ornate rug was haphazardly bunched up under one of the windows, and in the center of the old wooden floorboards, where an entirely different circle once stood, was a collection of candles and intricate drawings made from mud and ash and coal.

Outside, the posted sign had said he’d been closed for nearly two months. Aziraphale hadn’t opened the shop since the day Crowley had been discorporated. All of his attention had been focused on how to get his best friend back, and today his hard work would finally pay off. 

Today, he would finally get to see Crowley again.

Glancing back at his notes one more time, Aziraphale dusted off his hands. Carefully, he stepped around the outside of the circle, avoiding any close interaction with the candles that were spaced exactly three feet apart from each other. It wouldn’t do for him to knock any of them over. The last time he’d had a mishap like that, the entire bookshop had burned to the ground. Aziraphale couldn’t afford to have that happen again. Not when Adam wasn’t able to fix it like last time.

“Right,” the angel muttered to himself, releasing a deep breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. “Here we go.”

The angel reached behind him and grabbed a notebook from the cluttered desk. He’d spent nearly three days translating text used for the ancient rituals. Although Aziraphale was pretty sure he had the words memorized based on how many times he had already gone over them, he didn’t want to risk any disruptions. The fact that Crowley had been gone for almost two months without a single word meant his friend was likely in some sort of trouble. Crowley was counting on Aziraphale and the angel would not disappoint.

Aziraphale’s words echoed throughout the bookshop, starting off soft, then getting louder by the minute. At the beginning, the angel kept his eyes fixed on the paper in front of him. He gritted his teeth as the words began to shift around, vibrating up and down before his eyes. This was not what he needed right now. Aziraphale couldn’t afford to mess this up. 

It took a moment for the angel to realize the words were moving, not because of some occult magic, but because Aziraphale couldn’t stop his hands from trembling. He sucked in a deep breath and released it quickly, forging along with his repetition of the ritual written out before him. In the back of his mind, the angel willed his hands to steady. They could shake all they wanted later when Crowley was back in his arms.

Eventually, the angel chanced a glance beyond his worn parchment. What he saw nearly took his breath away. The sigil on the floor was glowing, actually glowing. A faint orange light was rising up from the floorboards, outlining the dark charcoal marks. Aziraphale could feel the occult energy building in front of him. The lights from the candles began to flicker as the rising energy crackled like lightning around him. Tiny sparks of blue electricity jumped from one black line to the next in front of his very eyes. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and Aziraphale had to tear his gaze away from the whirring magic before him and back to the page in his still trembling hand.

He couldn’t stop now, no matter how quickly his heart was beating. No matter how blurry his eyes were growing with the tears that Aziraphale could not seem to hold back. He had to keep going. He had to finish this.

He had to see Crowley again. This  _ had _ to work.

“I summon thee, Demon Crowley, Serpent of Eden. Come to Earth and do my bidding.”

Aziraphale finished with thunderous assurance, flinging his arms to the side, paper still clutched in his shaking hand. Blue eyes flew wide as he imagined what was sure to happen next. He imagined the blue energy leaping toward the middle of the circle. He imagined the orange light glowing blindingly bright so he had to look away. He imagined the roar of wind displacing stacks of papers all around his bookshop as it rushed toward the center of the room.

Any second now. Any second and the breeze would surge around him, coalescing in fire and earth as it swirled within the sigil, and when the dust settled, Crowley would be there.

The air did rush by him, and Aziraphale’s heart raced alongside it. He waited, hardly daring to breathe as the orange light flickered in front of him, and then promptly went out. 

Aziraphale blinked. What had happened? He looked down at his notes, blue eyes rapidly scanning for anything he might have done wrong. No. The words had been perfect. Perhaps the sigil?

All colored light had faded from the floorboards. The design was still in tact, though, which was probably a good sign. Aziraphale half expected his whole setup to explode in bright flames and searing heat if even one part of the process was done incorrectly. He had several buckets of water standing by for such an event. Normal water, at the moment, but with a quick blessing, they would be quite effective against anything unwelcome Hell might send his way.

Stumbling backward, the angel made his way back to his desk and picked up another bit of parchment. This one was attached to two ornate brass rods, one at either end. Aziraphale glanced down at the scroll, then back to the black-marked floor at the center of his bookshop. His eyes traced over each and every line. Each curve, spiral, and hash mark. They were all here. Every single one of them was in its proper place.

So what had gone wrong?

Aziraphale frowned. Maybe he had gotten his pronunciation wrong. Shuffling through some more papers on his desk, the angel found what he was looking for. He stood there staring at the page for what felt like an eternity. Blue eyes danced slowly over the words, looking for any hint of a discrepancy.

His heart sank when, many minutes later, Aziraphale came up empty. Everything seemed to be in perfect order. 

So why hadn’t it worked?

Turning to face the circle once more, Aziraphale took a step forward. He clutched the words of the ritual close to his chest once more and began to speak, this time, reciting the words from memory.

Almost immediately, the sigil began to glow once more. This time, Aziraphale did not look away. He spoke the ancient words with a fierce determination, his blue eyes flashing in the candle lit room. The angel kept his gaze upon the softly glowing sigil and watched as, word by word, it began to glow brighter and brighter.

“I summon thee,” Aziraphale spoke again, his heart aching inside his chest. “Demon Crowley, Serpent of Eden. Come to Earth and do my bidding.”

For a second time, there was a light rush of wind, scattering a few pieces of paper by Aziraphale’s feet. The candles in front of him flickered and the steady orange glow pulsed brighter one time, and then went out.

Tears pooled over the edges of Aziraphale’s eyes. He didn’t understand. This should work! He’d done everything exactly right. The words had been perfect. The sigil had  _ glowed _ . The ritual had worked, but it hadn’t brought Crowley back.

Why?

Heart hammering in his chest, Aziraphale tried to think things through. Why wouldn’t the ritual work? Why had Crowley not returned when Aziraphale had called him? What force could possibly be keeping his friend down in Hell, unable to return to Earth?

There was one possibility he hadn’t considered yet. One possibility that Aziraphale refused to consider.

Crowley wasn’t  _ gone. _ Not permanently. Not forever. He couldn’t be. Aziraphale would know if Crowley was gone. He would have felt something. Something more than this dull ache in his chest. They’d been together since the beginning. Crowley always knew when Aziraphale had been in trouble. He’d found his way to Paris when the angel had been imprisoned in the Bastille. He’d walked across consecrated ground when Aziraphale had walked into a Nazi trap. Crowley had  _ always _ known how to find Aziraphale. Surely that sense - that connection - went both ways.

And so, Aziraphale reasoned, Crowley couldn’t be gone. Not completely. Aziraphale was quite certain that at this point, he didn’t know how to exist without Crowley. If his friend really was gone, then how was Aziraphale still here? If Crowley really had disappeared for good, how was the angel’s heart still beating in his chest? 

Grimacing, Aziraphale turned to face the design on his floor once more. Something was wrong. It had to be. He’d picked the wrong ritual or someone had written the steps down incompletely. Aziraphale would prove it to himself. He would repeat the ritual one more time with a different demon’s name. When it failed a third time, the angel would go back to his research. He would find a way to get Crowley back, no matter how long it took. 

For the third time that morning, Aziraphale faced down the sigil upon his floor. His voice rose in volume as the orange light appeared, candles flickering with the light breeze that whipped up suddenly around him. Blue eyes stared unblinking at the intricate design as the sparks of electricity began to dart between the charcoal lines one more.

“I summon thee Caim, minion of Hell. Come to Earth and do my bidding.”

It hadn’t been a difficult choice who to summon. Aziraphale didn’t know many of the demons’ names and he didn’t feel like wasting time researching which one to summon when the angel was sure this ritual wouldn’t work the way it was intended. Crowley didn’t like to talk about his limited time in Hell or his former coworkers, but after knowing him for over six thousand years, Aziraphale had picked up on a few names. He had no desire to bring forth any of Crowley’s superiors, but demons like Dagon and Beelzebub hadn’t been the only ones his friend had mentioned over the years. There were a few names Aziraphale remembered - names of lesser demons who Crowley found more annoying than anything else. Any one of them would have been fine for his purposes, so Aziraphale said the first name that came to mind. 

The wind blew around him, ruffling Aziraphale’s white-blonde curls as it went by. The candles flickered and the orange light pulsed with energy. Even though this was the third time this had happened, Aziraphale found that he could not tear his gaze away from the crackling blue energy as it leaped from one black mark to the next, starting at the outer edge of the sigil and rapidly working its way in. As the sparks reached the center, there was a bright flash of light accompanied by the stench of sulfur and Aziraphale had to shut his eyes, both to the bright light and sudden tears as he tried to expel the wretched scent from his lungs in a fit of coughing.

When he opened his eyes again, Aziraphale found himself face to face with a palm-sized black bird. It was hopping around the center of the sigil, flapping its wings about haphazardly, as if it was trying to figure out how it had suddenly appeared inside the bookshop.

He blinked again, noticing the extra pair of taloned arms that lay beneath those fluttering wings. No normal bird had those, Aziraphale was sure of it. 

_ No _ . This couldn’t be right. He had to be seeing things. There couldn’t be a demon here, in his bookshop. The ritual was broken. It didn’t work. So how…?

“Caim?”

The demon looked up at him, coal black eyes glistening in the flickering candlelight. “Oh, how rich.” His voice sounded nothing like Aziraphale expected a bird’s voice to sound like, if birds could talk. It was a deep, resonating thing, causing the shelves around him to shake with every syllable. “An angel, summoning a demon. Headquarters is going to love this.”

Aziraphale stared down at the small creature as it hopped around in its cage. The ritual had worked after all, which meant two things. One, Caim was trapped in Aziraphale’s bookshop until the angel sent him back to Hell. And two, Crowley wasn’t coming back. Crowley couldn’t come back.

“I don’t work for Heaven anymore,” the angel stated through gritted teeth, eyes hardening as he continued to look down at the demon before him. Desperately, he fought back tears. Now was not the time to lose his composure. Today wasn’t a complete failure. He had managed to summon a demon here - a demon he was currently talking to. That was progress.

Maybe Caim knew where Crowley was. This minor demon was here, after all, under Aziraphale’s summons. He would be compelled to tell the angel all he knew.

Hope flared to life in Aziraphale’s chest as he stared down the creature before him. Caim had stopped moving around, realizing that the sigil on the floor was sealed tight. There was no way for him to escape. Not until Aziraphale released him from his bonds.

“Where is Crowley?” the angel asked harshly, meeting the bird-like creature’s gaze. He watched as the sharp black beak parted for a moment, shifting up and down as Caim moved his head in a silent laugh.

“Answer me!” Aziraphale commanded, fists clenching beside him as a hot wave of anger crashed against the inside of his chest. “What did you do to him?”

Caim’s feathery shoulders rose and fell with a gentle shrug. His taloned arms crossed in front of his chest as he extended his wings in a long stretch. “How should I know? We haven’t seen hide or hair from him since you two botched the Apocalypse.”

Fury swept through the angel. He could feel the energy in the room begin to pulse as Aziraphale struggled to hold himself back. “You’re lying,” he hissed, knowing his claim had to be true. There was no way Crowley could have been discorporated and ended up anywhere else except for Hell. Even if Caim hadn’t seen Crowley, he would have heard about his arrival. He would have known if Hell had done something to Crowley. Based on what Aziraphale remembered of this particular demon, Caim was a gossip. He liked to listen in on rumors and enjoyed spreading them even more. 

If something had happened to Crowley, which it obviously had, Caim would know.

“And here I thought they said you were clever,” Caim drawled, causing Aziraphale’s fists to clench even tighter. He had never really understood the phrase ‘seeing red’ until this very moment. The angel’s entire body was shaking. His gaze had tunnel-visioned, practically eliminating all peripheral vision from his sights. All Aziraphale could see was the self-satisfied demon perched in front of him, beady little black eyes piercing straight through the angel. “You drew this pattern, yeah? Then you should be aware that I physically cannot lie to you while you have me trapped here in this prison.”

Aziraphale drew in a deep breath. “Then I command you to tell me where Crowley is,” he reiterated. “He was discorporated two months ago, which means he would have ended up back in Hell. There is no way you haven’t heard some bit of information or rumor about him. Tell me what you know.”

Caim snorted sounding more like a several ton bull than a small black thrush. “I know nothing.”

Once again, the energy in the room began to spark. Celestial and infernal joining together in the air around them. Aziraphale paused for a moment to calm himself down. If he wasn’t careful, he might end up destroying the bookshop anyway.

“Then tell me what you’ve heard.” As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Aziraphale knew Caim was right about one thing. He could not physically lie in that circle when asked a direct question. He could, however, bend the truth so much it became unrecognizable. The angel would have to choose his words wisely.

Caim took a deep breath and fixed his gaze on Aziraphale. “I have not seen that pathetic excuse for a demon since he bathed in front of us all in a tub full of Holy Water.” He sneered and Aziraphale felt his stomach clench violently within him as rage reared its ugly head. “And I hope to never see his disgusting face again.”

A bolt of white-hot lightning fell from the ceiling, landing mere inches from where Caim was currently standing. The demon shrieked, flapping its wings ferociously as it rose from the ground, desperate to get away. Demons could not feel heat - they were born of fire. They lived in it. This sort of radiant energy was the closest they ever came to it, and for a being who wasn’t used to the sensation, it could be quite disturbing.

“Don’t speak about him that way,” Aziraphale commanded. “You can say all manner of things against me, but I will not tolerate anything of the sort about Crowley.”

The bird-like demon fluttered back to the floor and sneered at him, careful to avoid the still smoldering char mark Aziraphale’s attack had left behind. “Why should you care what I say about  _ Crawly _ ?” Caim spat in the angel’s general direction. “He’s only a demon after all.”

Just like the first time, this second bolt had no warning. It erupted downward from the rafters, striking the ground quicker than either of them could comprehend. Aziraphale’s blue eyes flashed brilliantly in the dim bookshop lighting and when the miraculous strike had cleared, leaving behind a twin singe mark on his hardwood floors, Caim was gone, leaving behind a handful of black feathers that fluttered nervously to the floor. 

For a moment, the only sounds Aziraphale could hear were his own soft, shallow breaths accompanied by a high pitched ringing that resonated loudly in his head. He felt a sharp pain in his hands and slowly uncurled his fists, raising his palms to inspect the sensation. A row of crescent indentations marred the skin on each of his hands where his fingernails had bit into his own flesh. It hadn’t been enough to break the skin, but Aziraphale had been close. He couldn’t remember a time ever feeling that much anger and hatred before. It had left him feeling quite drained.

Aziraphale’s reaction had been so sudden, he hadn’t given the demon a chance to speak. The angel hadn’t even given himself the opportunity to say a single word to Caim before he was so violently discorporated and sent back to Hell. Perhaps the demon would spread his story among his acquaintances down there. Perhaps word would spread that Crowley had gone missing and Aziraphale was searching for him. That Aziraphale wouldn’t stop until he had his demon by his side once more. He’d lost his chance to make his intentions known this time around, but that hardly mattered.

Next time, he would be sure to pass along the message. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, everyone! I hope you all had a lovely weekend. I was travelling a lot, myself (and will be this week as well), but I am hoping to get a lot done on this story this week, as well as some of my other projects. 
> 
> If you see something you like, or just want to say hello or scream your frustration or excitement, feel free to leave a comment <3 reading them makes me indescribably happy!


	9. Chapter 8

The voice was so out of place that when he first heard it, Crowley paid no attention. He had been walking around this fucking nightmare of a dungeon for an eternity and he wasn’t getting anywhere. Half the gates he passed by lead to darkened hallways and more uninhabited corridors and the ones he did come across that held promises of escape all contained those same seals. He was effectively trapped in this place with no discernible way out. 

Maybe he should have spent more time down in Hell. Would that have helped him now? If he’d come down for a check-in every now and then, would someone have mentioned the name? The seals? This supposed separate area of Hell that he could not escape from?

He had to find a way out. Crowley knew he was clever. He was resourceful, but most of all, he was determined. He could do this. He could figure a way out if only he had a moment of silence where he could  _ think _ . If only this infernal noise would stop for a moment and let him breathe.

_ Ugh _ ! Crowley couldn’t stand this. It was one thing to be trapped down here in this never-ending maze by himself, but an entirely different kind of torture to be trapped and stuck listening to this racket. Honestly, the song drifting down the hallway wasn’t even that catchy. If anything, it sounded more like raucous chanting than singing, and though he couldn’t decipher all of the words, Crowley was pretty sure the chant didn’t even rhyme. 

Wait. What?

The demon stopped dead in his tracks, all too familiar dim lights flickering around him, casting shadows of himself against the walls. Crowley was being extra careful to keep an eye on the shadows. They would be the first telltale sign that something was wrong. Either that or the whispering. He hadn’t heard the haunting whispers or terrifying screams in a while. In fact, this was the first sound he’d heard outside of his own breathing since he’d transformed back out of his snake form.

A chant? Another voice? The demon’s heartbeat began to increase and not entirely because of his sudden increase in pace. Who was it? Where was it coming from? Was it possible that there was someone else down here, trapped with him? Or had Crowley finally lost his mind?

_ Thwick, thwack, packity-whack _ _   
_ _ Glip glop gloo-who-who _ __   
_ Yig yup yoop _ _   
_ __ Floobity-doo! Floobity-doo. 

Crowley darted around the next corner and skidded to a dead stop. There, clinging to the wall like some kind of spider, was another demon. He was much smaller than Crowley, around a foot and a half tall with deep red leathery skin, sharp black claws on his hands and feet, and a thin tail that was currently whipping back and forth, sharp stinger thwacking up against the stones he clung to.

Upon hearing his footsteps, the small demon turned, fixing his bright yellow eyes on Crowley’s face. For a moment, he simply stared, his tail still thwacking against the stone, the sound echoing around them. Heart hammering away in his chest, Crowley stared the small creature down, unsure what to do. He didn’t look all that threatening. If forced, Crowley could probably take him in a fight. Not that he really wanted to. What Crowley wanted most was information. Information that, maybe, this creature could give him.

“What’s your name?” It was as good as any place to start. 

The other demon looked up at him with his beady little yellow eyes. “A name’s a game that must be played before the words that can be sayed.” with a flutter of his bat-like wings, he drifted toward the ground, hopping around in circles as he casually chased after his barbed tail.

Crowley rolled his eyes. Of course. Of course the first being he came across that didn’t want to kill him was stark raving mad. 

“My name is Crowley,” he tried again, trying to slip as much patience into his voice as possible as he knelt down to be closer to the little imp-like creature. “I’ve gotten myself lost down here and I’m looking for a way out. Do you know the way?”

The imp paused in his hopping, turning his head to gaze up at Crowley. “Hard to say,” the creature began, cocking his head to one side. Behind him, his tail flicked sharply back and forth, thwacking against the cold stone floor with an irregular tempo. “Which way is up, down, out, or in. All ways become one in the maze.”

A sigh escaped Crowley’s lips. He rose to his feet, resisting the urge to bury his face in his hands. There had to be something useful this thing could tell him. Even if he was insane, the creature had to know some sort of fact that might help Crowley get out of here. 

What else could he ask? What else might this creature know after being down here as long as he had? How long  _ had  _ he been down here? Was he even coherent enough to be able to know something like that?

Crowley shrugged. At this point there was absolutely no reason not to ask. Worst case scenario, he got some kind of rubbish answer and was forced to try something else. 

“How long have you been down here?” Crowley asked, fixing his amber gaze on the tiny, angular face. “Are you stuck like me?”

The imp cackled as he reached out a hand and grasped onto the end of his own tail, hoisting it victoriously over his head. “Stick stack stuck. Flitter free and count the clocks. Tick tock. Tick tock. Stick stack stuck.”

Another frustrated sigh left the demon’s lips. He would try one more time, and then be on his way. Walking around aimlessly for hours upon end didn’t seem to be helping him, but neither did speaking to this creature. At least when he was moving, Crowley felt like he was making some progress. At least when he was moving, he felt like he was putting some distance between himself and whatever that Belial creature was.

“Where are we?”

Three blinks of the imp’s yellow eyes in rapid succession. “We are here,” he responded, like it was the most obvious answer in the world. Crowley growled deep in his chest. This was hopeless! Crowley would be better off drawing pictures in the sand than trying to talk to this brain-dead  _ thing. _

He paused, suddenly, and looked down at the ground. There was a decent layer of dust and grime in this passageway. Perhaps it would be enough.

Stooping to the ground, Crowley held out a finger and began to draw, smiling to himself as the imp stopped tugging on his own tail and turned to watch what he was doing. Slowly, an image began to appear - a symbol that would appear to be some sort of complex wiggly line to anyone other than a fellow demon.

Grinning, his pointed teeth glinting in the dim light, the imp hopped forward and placed his own finger in the grime, dragging it around rapidly until a very familiar symbol lay present on the floor across from Crowley’s.

“Cortaz,” Crowley murmured, the information clicking into place. So this  _ was _ the demon whose mark he’d seen earlier. The one who had been marking each gate Crowley had passed by. Why? If he wasn’t sealed in down here, why didn’t the creature just leave? He was small enough, he would fit through the bars. Why hadn’t he left this place already?

Crowley could ask, but he doubted he’d get any straight answer. It was likely this imp was just too stupid to realize he could walk away. He didn’t need to eat, didn’t need to sleep. There was no reason he  _ needed _ to be somewhere else. What reason did Cortaz have to leave here? Perhaps, for him, this area was a better alternative to the rest of Hell where it was loud and crowded and he likely got bossed around day in and day out. Perhaps that was the reason he left.

“Why haven’t you left yet?” he asked, knowing the answer would be unsatisfactory. “Why haven’t you tried to go home?”

The imp blinked again, seemingly disappointed their drawing game had come to an end. With a loud huff of his breath, he clambered across the floor and back up the wall, clinging to the damp stone like a squirrel to a tree. “Home is what you make of it.”

Fine. If this thing didn’t want to give him answers or was too stupid to come up with them, Crowley would leave him be. He stood up, not even bothering to brush the dirt and grime off his pants this time. This whole entire outfit was going straight into the fire as soon as he got back to his flat. He would let it burn up with all these terrible memories

_ Hold on, my dear, _ he could hear Aziraphale’s voice whispering in his head. Crowley sighed and closed his eyes, once again fighting back tears, trying to keep his crumbling heart in one piece.  _ There is still one more question you need to ask him. _

Crowley rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he huffed out loud. He imagined Aziraphale down here standing beside him, blue eyes twinkling softly in the dim light. The demon just barely resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at the angel, an act he knew Aziraphale would respond to with a soft ‘tut’ and a gentle smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

_ What’s the point, angel?  _ He asked the imaginary Aziraphale inside his mind.  _ He’s not going to know anything. _

The phantom angel simply smiled and shook his head, blonde curls bobbing back and forth with the motion. What Crowley wouldn’t give to be able to reach over and pull the angel into his arms right in that moment. He would hold Aziraphale close, bury his hands in the angel’s soft hair and never ever let go.

_ Just because he says nothing, does not mean he knows nothing. _

Of course. Aziraphale was brilliant, even when he was only a figment of Crowley’s imagination. Why hadn’t he thought of it before?

“Hey, Cortaz!” Crowley shouted, gathering the imp’s attention once more. The moment those beady little yellow eyes were locked on his, the demon snapped his fingers and Cortaz froze, clinging to the wall with a single hand, his other dangling uselessly beside him. He gazed up at Crowley with a blank look on his face, mouth hanging open ever so slightly.

“Right,” Crowley began, knowing he had the imp’s undivided attention now. “Now you listen here. I have a series of very important questions that needs answering. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” the imp answered breathlessly, the trance holding onto him with a firm grip. Crowley smiled to himself and continued on.

“Who is Belial? Where the Heavens am I, and how the bloody Hell do I get back to Earth?”

The moment the name Belial entered into the air around them, Cortaz began to shake. His yellow eyes went even wider, wings flapping erratically behind him. There was no mistaking the scent of fear emanating from his body as the imp tried to flee, but was trapped in place on the wall.

“Belial…” Cortaz croaked in a voice that suddenly sounded much more lucid. “We are in Belial’s territory.”

“Yes, yes,” Crowley interrupted, frustrated with how this creature’s reaction was pulling his fear to the surface as well. “I figured out that much. Who  _ are  _ they, Cortaz? How do we escape?”

“Esssscape,” the imp hissed, baring his teeth at Crowley. It was disconcerting how wide his eyes had grown. How he hadn’t blinked at all since the demon had asked his question. “There isss no essscape.”

Cortaz’s voice grew more hushed, more urgent, and yet it seemed to fill the space around them, echoing off the stone walls in a way that turned Crowley’s blood to ice. He wanted to turn around, wanted to check behind him to make sure he was still safe, but if he broke eye contact, there was a chance the imp might flee and take all of Crowley’s answers with him. Demons weren’t like humans. With humans, Crowley could keep his hypnotic spell up indefinitely. He didn’t have to look them in the eye, didn’t have to be standing right beside them, but demons? He had limited resources and even more limited time. Crowley had to act fast.

“Who. Are. They?” He reiterated, widening his own eyes to match the imp’s, trying desperately to ignore the rapid beating of his heart and the way his palms were beginning to sweat.

The hairs on the back of Crowley’s neck stood on end a split second before Cortaz answered. The hissing that had left the imp’s mouth a second earlier turned into whispers and Crowley knew he needed to  _ run. _

“They are heeerrreee….”

Cortaz’s high-pitched answer melded into the scream that echoed from down the hall. Crowley broke eye contact and glanced up in front of him, seeing, to his dismay, a single hallway stretching on for what seemed like miles. He couldn’t go straight ahead. Based on his body’s reaction, Belial was close. Even if he sprinted forward, there was no guarantee he would find another passage to dart down. He could reach the end of the hall to find a dead end. And even if he didn’t find himself trapped by stone walls, Belial would spot him long before he reached his destination.

He had to play the waiting game. Had to hope that this nightmare of a creature was here hunting an insane imp, rather than himself. But where could he go? The nearest gate was back the other way, a way that he absolutely could not go. What was his other option?

_ There. _ Another crevice at the top of the wall. This one a bit wider than the last. Crowley could only hope it would be high enough that Belial would not notice him.

Crowley transformed quickly, slithering up the wall as quickly as he moved across the floor. If he were a normal snake, such a feat would have been impossible. Luckily for him, demonic serpents had a few extra abilities to help out in sticky situations such as this. He reached the crevice in record time, confident Belial had not spotted him.

Holding his breath, Crowley coiled in on himself, his snout mere inches from the opening in the wall he was hiding within. From here he could see the flickering light below. He could see the shadows dancing on the wall as Cortaz fluttered about in shock, too paralyzed by his shock and fear to flee. 

_ Get away, _ Crowley urged him, unable to do anything to help.  _ Get away you stupid, useless imp. _

Amber eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of a familiar shadow on the wall. Determined to know what he was up against, Crowley had kept his human eyes in place, allowing him to see more than just the heat signatures around him. He watched, breathless, as a large black wing came into view. He watched as broad horns stretched out below him, the demonic figure coming to a stop less than five feet below where he was hiding.

Even though he couldn’t see them as he gazed down at Belial’s backside, Crowley could imagine those terrifying red eyes, blazing with light as they looked over at the imp thrashing up against the walls. Looking for an escape where none existed.

All of a sudden, the whispers and screaming stopped. The air around them froze, silence becoming deafening as Belial reached out with a taloned hand and grabbed Cortaz cleanly out of the air, pinning the imp’s wings to his side. Red light began to pulse between them as thin black tendrils of fog crept outward from Belial’s face and mouth and head, twisting their way around the imp’s body, latching onto every empty bit of skin they could find.

A new scream echoed around them, breaking the silence. It struck at Crowley’s heart, latching onto his very soul, threatening to drag it clean from his body. Crowley shrank back in his sanctuary, watching as Cortaz’s yellow eyes burned bright, illuminating the space around them for what felt like both an eternity and no time at all.

The light was so bright, Crowley had to momentarily close his eyes. If he’d been in his humanoid form, the demon was certain his heart would have lodged itself in his throat, never to be removed again.

Suddenly, the screaming stopped and Crowley’s eyes flew open. The bright yellow light instantaneously shut off, revealing Cortaz’s cold lifeless eyes for a brief moment before his body crumbled away into dust.

Without moving, without taking a step forward or moving his head or making any indication at all that they knew where Crowley was, Belial began to speak.

_ I am the darkness in every street,  _ the whispering voices hissed, coalescing into one sound that struck simultaneously at Crowley’s mind and heart. It was almost as if Belial knew he was here. Almost as if the creature was toying with him. Wanting him to break with fear the way Cortaz had.  _ The crumbling buildings where the desolate sleep. The slice of razor against soft supple skin. _

_ I am the empty bottles strewn across the floor.  _ Crowley held his breath, knowing deep within his twisted heart that this was the end. He was going to die here. His heart, body, mind and soul destroyed in a flash of brilliant light. 

_ The harsh gaze of every mirror hanging on the walls. The pierce of the needle that brings promises of oblivion, but will never deliver. I am every thought of judgement, every assurance that you’ll never be enough. _

One more high-pitched scream echoed throughout the halls, and for one horrifying moment, Crowley feared it was his own. But Belial did not react. Belial did not turn their gaze toward him. They simply stood motionless in the hall, specks of darkness hovering around them. For a moment, Crowley thought they seemed to pulse with a soft yellow light, but that would be ridiculous.

_ There is no escaping me. Creation will always believe they are less than perfect, that they are lacking in every way that matters. And, therefore, I am eternity. _

Crowley shut his eyes, waiting for the inevitable to come. Waiting for that clawed hand to wrap itself around his neck, waiting for the tendrils of darkness to latch onto his skin and pull the very light of his soul out of his body, leaving him as nothing more than crumbling dust. Waiting with bated breath for oblivion to take him.

It never came.

_ You cannot escape. _ Belial took a step forward, its footsteps echoing throughout the hall. Crowley’s eyes flew open, hope flaring to life inside his chest despite the situation he currently found himself in. He was safe, for now. Belial hadn’t found him yet.  _ I will find you. We have all of eternity to play this game, little one. _

_ It is a game I intend to win. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delayed update, everyone (I know it's technically still Friday, but I was aiming to get this out earlier in the day). This has been a hell of a week for me. I was on travel for work, in a different timezone (so my sleep schedule flew out the window), and dealing with finals all at once. Thank goodness Friday is finally here. By the next time I update, the semester will be officially over and I'll have time to breathe again.
> 
> I hope you all are enjoying this story still. If you've got the time, I'd love to hear from you. After the week I've had, I could really use the support.
> 
> See you all on Tuesday as we check back in on Aziraphale :) If you've gotten this far, I want you to know I appreciate you taking the time to give this a read! You all are the best :)


	10. Chapter 9

Aziraphale felt like he was going to be sick.

He hated this. He absolutely hated this overwhelming feeling of hopelessness that clung to him no matter what he did. He hated pouring over book after book and finding nothing that could help him bring Crowley back. He hated how three months had gone by like the blink of an eye. Hated how the days of his life kept marching forward without his best friend here by his side.

Most of all, he hated how desperate he felt each time he stepped away from his desk and out into the real world.

“It’s alright, Aziraphale,” Anathema murmured softly as she reached down to grab onto his hand. They were standing in line, waiting to purchase tickets for the new “Picasso and Paper” exhibit that was currently on display at the Royal Academy of Arts. Anathema had insisted that they go together. She claimed she needed Aziraphale to go along because Newton absolutely refused, but the angel knew better. He knew that Anathema had planned this little outing specifically for him. 

It was an attempt to pull him away from his frantic researching, to get him out of his head and back into the real world. It was an attempt to allow him to breathe for a moment. To distract him from his constant, desperate worrying. From feeling like he was useless.

As much as Aziraphale hated to admit it, her plan was working.

“You’re allowed to miss him,” the woman continued as they reached the front counter. Aziraphale smiled tentatively at her, the action not quite reaching his eyes. Despite how he yearned to be back in his bookshop, pouring over his tomes, the angel did feel much better standing outside in the sunlight. The cool air was refreshing against his skin and the more he breathed it in, the clearer Aziraphale’s mind became.

Maybe Anathema was on to something.

“I do,” the angel admitted as they walked through the front doors and headed down the first hall, slowing their pace to take in the artwork around them. “More than I ever would have cared to admit, up until recently.”

From the corner of his eye, Aziraphale saw her smile sadly. They stopped in front of the first piece, one that looked like a haphazardly pieced together violin. The art on exhibit here weren’t so much paintings as they were images pieced together with various bits of paper. It was a different sort of medium, but one Aziraphale found that he didn’t mind all that much. The art was interesting. Different. It made him pause and cock his head to one side as he pondered what Picasso might have been imagining in that moment.

“Have you two really known each other for thousands of years?”

A real smile found its way onto Aziraphale’s face. His mind drifted back to memories of Eden, of standing on the wall looking out over Adam and Eve as they started their journey into the unknown. For the briefest of moments, the angel had felt a little uncertain as the serpent had slithered up by his side, but then Crowley had smiled at him and for the first time in his existence, Aziraphale felt his worries melt away. 

_Oh, you’re an angel. I don’t think you can do the wrong thing._

“Oh yes, dear. Since the very beginning.”

Her eyes widened several fractions of an inch. “The beginning? As in the beginning of the universe? The beginning of _everything_?”

He laughed, a genuine laugh that filled his chest with a blazing warmth and banished the aching loneliness, if only for a moment. “Yes, dear. Since the Garden.”

Anathema opened her mouth to ask another question, then stopped abruptly, threading her arm through Aziraphale’s as they walked on to the next image. “There are so many things I want to ask you. About the universe and history and the way the world works, but at the same time, I don’t think I actually want to know the answers.”

She smiled over at him, squeezing his arm gently. “It’s more fun to wonder.”

Aziraphale nodded but said nothing. His mind wandered to everything that had happened to them the past eleven years. All the wondering, the panicking. The Almighty and her Ineffable Plan. Looking back, he supposed he could see Anathema’s point, but at the time, Aziraphale had most certainly been through with wondering. He had wanted answers and received only silence.

Just like now. He’d reached out to Heaven and Hell in his attempts to find Crowley and gotten nothing in return. They hadn’t even acknowledged his questions. Hadn’t given him the time of day.

The angel breathed in deeply, trying his best to keep the sadness at bay. He would have time later to wallow in grief. For now, Aziraphale should be taking the time this afternoon to spend it with his friend. She was trying her best to console him in a hopeless situation. It would be rude of him not to at least allow her to try.

As they crossed the threshold into the next room, Aziraphale stopped suddenly. He made an involuntary retching sound as a putrid scent hit him full on. It brought forth images of rotten eggs and several week-old compost strong enough that the angel was sure any human nearby might faint or be sick upon smelling it. 

“Everything alright?” Anathema asked, noticing Aziraphale’s sudden change in demeanor. 

Blue eyes widened as the angel turned to look at her. “It would be a lot better if the individuals working here cleaned up after themselves every once in a while.” 

Instead of agreeing with him like Aziraphale expected her to, Anathema just looked confused. For five whole seconds, the angel looked at her, waiting for a reaction that never came. How could she not be affected by whatever was making this awful stench? How had none of the other dozen of people in this room reacted? Why was he the only one who had noticed?

Of course. Aziraphale was on high alert the next moment, reaching out with his other senses, trying to locate the source. Trying to find where that presence was coming from and the closest exit to get Anathema out of here as fast as possible.

He’d already lost a friend to a demon once. Aziraphale wasn’t about to do it again.

Eyes still gazing frantically around the room, the angel reached for Anathema’s hand. He grabbed onto it tightly, tugging her closer to his body. To her credit, the woman did not act as if anything was wrong. She kept her composure and joined him in looking around the room, searching for whatever unspoken threat Aziraphale had just realized was among them.

Finally, the angel spotted the creature, hovering near the corner of the room. He was dressed in a grey suit and dark green tie and was standing rather close to another man in similar attire - black instead of grey, but still dressed rather nicely for casually touring an art exhibit. 

“What - ?” Anathema asked under her breath as her eyes fell on the figure Aziraphale had identified. He quietly shushed her under his breath. No need for them to draw attention to themselves. Luckily, the demon was toward the center of the building, likely focusing all his attention on the black-suited man as he tried to tempt him into some nefarious deed, no doubt. There were two other exits in this room alone and the main exit was just through the doorway behind them. 

Aziraphale turned toward the nearest door, leading out onto a porch-like area that circled the building. His intention was to deposit Anathema safely outside and point her in any direction that lead away from here before marching right back in the building. There was no way he was about to let an opportunity like this pass him by. 

Eyes flicking over the room one more time, the angel leaned in closer to the woman holding onto his arm. “Anathema, dear. I’m going to need you to -” 

A second demon stepped out a few paces in front of them, her stormy grey eyes locked on Aziraphale’s. The angel’s voice died in his throat as his heart practically stopped beating. Biting back a curse, Aziraphale looked around one last time. There was no easy way out of here. No way out at all unless he moved to engage them.

What he wouldn’t give for Crowley’s time-stopping ability right about now. 

_Crowley_. The angel felt heat flare to life in the pit of his stomach. One of these demons could very well be the one that had discorporated his best friend. One of them might know where Crowley was.

Aziraphale stepped forward, pushing Anathema’s hand from his arm. He felt her stiffen beside him for an instant, acutely aware that her eyes were still fixed on his face. Part of him wanted to hang back and assure her that everything was going to be alright. He was a Principality, first and foremost. The guardian of Eden’s Eastern gate. At the very least, he could take on a few demons if the need arose.

Hopefully, the demons in their presence were smart enough to ensure he wouldn’t need to. 

The demon before him hesitated for a fraction of a second, a hint of apprehension flickering in the depths of her eyes, before squaring her shoulders to meet him head on. By a miracle of his own making, this particular room of the exhibit was empty apart from the four of them. Two demons, a human, and a Principality. 

“Watch out, little angel,” the demon taunted, her sharp white teeth glinting as the afternoon sun filtered through the open window. From the outside, this creature appeared human. She was middle-aged, with grey-streaked hair tied up in a bun and the beginnings of wrinkles on her forehead and at the corners of her eyes. It was only by her smile and the putrid scent wafting off her that Aziraphale was able to tell the difference. “You haven’t got the might of Heaven to back you up anymore. I doubt they’d care one bit if Duza and I ripped you to shreds.”

A hint of a smile appeared on the angel’s face. He snapped his fingers and a perfectly balanced steel knife appeared in his hands. It was no flaming sword, but in a pinch, this weapon would do just nicely.

“No,” Aziraphale answered, fixing his blue gaze on the demon just several steps away. His fingers reflexively tightened around the hilt in his hands. “You watch out. You have no idea who you are dealing with.”

A narrow smile appeared on her lips, white teeth still flashing before him. With one look at her face, the angel could tell she didn’t believe him. That was alright, he told himself. He didn’t need her to believe him. Not completely. All he needed was for her to answer his questions.

Aziraphale sensed the movement before he heard anything. In one fluid motion, the angel spun around, the knife rocketing from his hand to soar across the room. It connected precisely with its target, burying itself through several layers of fabric and wallpaper as the blade pinned the first demon’s suit jacket to the wall. In the blink of an eye, another knife materialized out of nowhere and flung itself at the startled creature, pinning his other sleeve in place as tightly as the first.

For the briefest of moments, Aziraphale’s gaze met Anathema’s. She was still looking at him, her wide brown eyes staring unblinkingly at his own blue ones. He was surprised to find an expression of concern on her face. The woman’s brows were furrowed at the center, her eyes shining not with fear, but with worry and a hint of surprise. For _him_.

No time to dwell on that now. Aziraphale had bigger issues to deal with at the moment.

“Like I said,” the angel continued, closing the distance between himself and the second demon, calling forth a third blade to press up against her throat. “You have. No. Idea.”

The demon growled at him but did not try to move away. This type of weapon wouldn’t kill her. Even still, discorporation was not a pleasant consequence to deal with, especially when one’s supervisor was Beelzebub, Prince of Hell. Aziraphale suspected that these two would want to try and avoid having to find a new body if at all possible.

“Now,” the angel began, his blue eyes boring down into a pair of slate grey ones. “You are going to tell me what you know.”

To his surprise, the demon in front of him actually trembled. She was afraid of him, as much as she may not want to admit it. He had expected her to be wary of him after that display, but this fear seemed a bit unfounded. Yes, Aziraphale was currently holding a knife to her throat, but it would hardly cause any permanent damage. Worst case scenario she was discorporated and ended up back in Hell for some time. This blade couldn’t kill her. Not permanently. If he’d had his flaming sword, the reaction would have been much more easily understood. Unlike this small blade, Aziraphale’s God-given sword would actually do permanent damage to a demon. 

“Where is Crowley?”

The demon did not hesitate in her response. “Who?”

Aziraphale’s eyes flashed and the demon shrunk back up against the wall as far as she could. “I swear!” she cried, palms pressed flat against the surface. “I don’t know where he is. Last I heard, he went native. Came to Hell months ago for a trial and they let him go.”

A frown crossed the angel’s face. He knew all of this already. What about more recently?

“Yes, yes,” Aziraphale pressed, heartbeat quickening inside his chest. “I know all this. What I want to know is where is he now? One of your people discorporated him, which means he has to be in Hell.” The angel paused, mostly for show as the demon in front of him blinked, her grey eyes never once leaving his. “Why can’t I find him? Where is he?”

For the briefest of moments, a shadow seemed to fall over the two of them as Aziraphale had the demon backed up against the wall, a knife to her throat. He assumed some sort of cloud had blown by overhead, momentarily blocking out the sun, but the angel wasn’t about to break eye contact to find out. He needed to focus all his attention on this creature if he had any hope of finding out what she knew.

“Answer me,” Aziraphale all but pleaded, hoping his desperation was masked by the anger currently radiating through his body. Crowley understood many aspects of the human existence, including things like friendship and loyalty. Why couldn’t these demons understand as well? Why couldn’t they understand how much Crowley meant to Aziraphale? What did it matter to them whether his friend was in Hell or up here on Earth? It wasn’t like Crowley spent his days bothering them. Their lives would be unaffected by Crowley’s return to Earth. Why couldn’t they find it in their hearts, as dark as they may be, to help the angel find his demon?

A scream sounded behind him, pulling Aziraphale from his thoughts and chilling him to the bone.

_Anathema_. Panic seized at him and Aziraphale whirled around. The second demon had somehow managed to free himself from the wall and was currently running straight at the woman still standing behind Aziraphale. Heart in his throat, the angel watched as Anathema darted behind the nearest column and reached for the closest weapon – an emergency fire axe hanging on the wall.

She was going to try and fight the thing off by herself. Aziraphale would have laughed at her audacity if he weren’t so bloody terrified of what came next. Demons weren’t supposed to physically hurt humans. They could tempt as much as they liked, but were not permitted to kill. Something told Aziraphale that Heaven might turn a blind eye in this case, as it involved several _somebodies_ that were directly responsible for stopping Armageddon.

He had to do something _now, _before time ran out for both of them.

Taking a deep breath, Aziraphale reacted. This time, the angel did not aim for the wall. He flung the blade straight at the demon’s heart, watching with grim satisfaction as the steel bit into the creature’s chest and his body thudded to the floor. The next second, Aziraphale let out the breath he’d been holding onto and willed the creature’s corporation away, watching as it dissolved into a fine black dust at Anathema’s feet.

“Last chance,” the angel warned, turning back to the second demon. She winced as his eyes met hers, but the demon held his gaze. She snarled at him, baring those glistening sharp teeth and as she lunged forward to try and get a few good bites in, Aziraphale shifted his hand, once again miraculously filled with a metal blade, and buried the weapon right in the center of her stomach.

The demon gasped in pain and staggered forward, her grey eyes blown wide. Aziraphale fixed his eyes on her face, his free hand coming up to clasp at the back of her neck so it would be impossible for her to look away.

“You tell them,” Aziraphale started, aware that he only had seconds left. “You tell them I won’t stop until Crowley is back here. If they are hiding him from me or trapping him down there, I _will_ find out, and I will come for you all. You _tell_ them.”

She did not respond. Either because she refused to give in to his demands or had lost the ability to speak. Aziraphale had no way to tell which. He gazed into her eyes, catching a glimpse of his own face in their reflection. It was too small to make out clearly, but for the briefest moment, the angel thought he saw the smallest pinpricks of bright blue light.

A second later, Aziraphale watched as her eyes dulled. She slumped forward and he caught her, feeling the skin beneath his fingertips start to crumble as he willed the corporation away. He was doing his best to keep the other humans away from this confrontation. As far as he knew, those around them would see nothing, but it never hurt to be too cautious.

In an instant, the demon’s body turned to ash and crumbled in his grip.

When the dust settled, Aziraphale found himself alone in a room, Anathema standing close by, as the remnants of two demons faded away into nothingness. They weren’t gone. Not permanently. Aziraphale didn’t know how long it would take the pair to be issued new corporations, but he wasn’t about to stick around and find out.

“Are you alright, dear?”

Anathema looked up at him slowly, her brown eyes searching his face for some sort of sign. “I’m fine,” she answered, finally, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ears. “Are _you_ alright? I’ve never seen you...look like that before.”

Aziraphale frowned, not entirely sure what she was talking about. As far as he knew, the angel looked the same as always. He glanced down briefly at his clothes, but apart from the few specks of demon dust, there was nothing different about him. Perhaps she had been referring to the way he’d chosen to handle the creatures. Aziraphale hadn’t done much fighting back when Armageddon was upon them, so Anathema would have no reason to have seen him wielding a weapon like he had just moments ago.

That had to be what she had meant.

“No need to worry about me, my dear,” he answered, offering her a warm smile. Immediately, the woman’s hesitancy vanished and she smiled back, moving to stand closer to him as she slipped her arm back into the crook of his elbow. Feeling her close to him sent a wave of relief though Aziraphale’s body, followed closely by more nerves.

“Let us get you home, shall we?”

Aziraphale did not wait for a response. That had been too close for comfort. He had already lost Crowley to one of these demons. Aziraphale wasn’t about to let anything like that happen to anyone else he cared for. Today, he had been lucky. Aziraphale had been able to deal with the demon threat swiftly, before anyone had gotten hurt. Unfortunately, his solution was only a temporary one. Eventually, those demons would be back. And if the angel’s gut feeling was even a little bit right, they might be furious enough with him to seek either him or Anathema out.

There was only one permanent solution to his series of problems. One way to ensure his human friends remained safe. One way for Aziraphale to force these beings into telling him what they knew about Crowley’s whereabouts. One thing that frightened them more than anything else and would force any demon he met in the future into cooperating with him.

He needed to find his sword.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Happy Tuesday and welcome back to another installment featuring BAMF Aziraphale. I haven't written much of him like this, so it's been an adventure for sure!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy :) thank you again for taking the time to read this story. If you have the time, I'd love to hear what you think so far!
> 
> See you all Friday (when I will officially done with school until the end of January!!!!!)


	11. Chapter 10

Crowley was finished.

He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t keep walking through this nightmare of damp hallways and flickering shadows. He couldn’t keep coming across door after door after door that was locked to him, couldn’t keep allowing hope to fill his entire being, only to have it come crashing back down when he realized time after time that Cortaz was right. There was no escape.

This was it for him. He was going to die down here. Or, at least, do whatever demons did when they were trapped for eternity all alone, all the while being chased by some soul-devouring creature. He was going to end up just like that little imp. Sharp claws digging into his throat. Vibrant blue eyes sucking out his shriveled up soul. Crowley was going to be lost forever. Disintegrated into dust and swept away by the chilly air that permeated this forgotten place.

He was never going to see Aziraphale again.

That thought hurt more than anything else. Crowley folded his arms around his stomach as he marched along the hallway, trying to warm himself up, trying to fight back the despair. His heart ached at the thought of his angel, all alone in the world. They were supposed to be on their own side. It had taken Aziraphale six thousand years to finally admit they were friends and in the span of six months, it was all over. Crowley had messed up. He had let his guard down and ended up in this mess. He had left Aziraphale all alone. 

How long had he been gone? A few days? A week? It was impossible to tell. Aziraphale must know what had happened to him. They’d had plans, hadn’t they? The angel was supposed to meet him at his apartment. At least, Crowley thought that had been the case. What had they been meeting up for again? Slowly, the demon glanced down at his attire. His grime-stained pants and tattered suit. Once upon a time, this had been a decent outfit. One of his very best, in fact. One that he only broke out for very special occasions. Now, why would he have chosen to wear it on that day…?

That’s right. A date. He’d been getting ready for a date with Aziraphale.

_A date with Aziraphale._ It was all Crowley had ever wanted for as long as he could remember. A chance to just _be_ with the angel. An opportunity where they could just be themselves, together. One single moment where he didn’t have to walk on eggshells. One moment where he didn’t have to hide from Heaven or Hell. One moment where he didn’t have to hide from Aziraphale.

It wasn’t like the demon had lied to his angelic friend. He had simply withheld some very crucial information. There just hadn’t really been an opportune time to bring it up. _‘Oh, the world hasn’t ended and you’re comfortable admitting we are friends now? That’s great. By the way, I’m no expert on the subject, but I’m almost certain that I’m in love with you. Have been for thousands of years. I hope that’s alright with you.’_

Preposterous. Which was why Crowley had never brought it up. He’d learned his lesson the last time he had tried to get too close to the angel.

_You go to fast for me, Crowley._

Even now, the memory brought an ache to the demon’s chest. Best to let the angel make the next move, even if that took centuries or if it never happened at all. As much as his desire for Aziraphale to finally know how he felt may seem too much to bear some days, Crowley held his feelings in. The fear of being rejected, of hearing the angel confirm what he already knew - that he would never be good enough - was too much. 

Step after step, Crowley continued to walk. There was no use running anymore. He didn’t have a destination in mind. He could feel his strength and determination fading with each passing second. What else was there left for him to do but wander aimlessly until he was either found by Belial or lost his mind to madness?

A breeze rushed down the long stretch of hallway, ruffling Crowley’s hair. He paused for a moment, listening for any sign of whispering or distant screams. His amber eyes darted to the walls, examining the shadows with intensity, looking for anything out of place.

There was nothing. He was all alone.

For a moment, Crowley simply stood there in the center of the long hallway. What was the point? He’d passed nearly a dozen different gates, all with that same seal on them. Someone had made a point to ensure he would be trapped down here. Why? Was Hell still convinced he was immune to Holy Water? Had they placed a ward with his name on it as a precautionary measure, to keep him out? And what about the individual who had discorporated him? Crowley hadn’t been able to get any sort of look at them in the moments when he had been attacked. Had they known this would happen to him from the start? Had they killed his body in order to send him here? Trap him here? Or was this just a happy little coincidence?

It was impossible to tell how long the demon stood lost in his thoughts. It was also impossible to tell how long he would have remained that way if a certain, hauntingly familiar sound hadn’t come drifting down the hallway.

The moment those chilling whispers reached Crowley’s ears, the demon froze. Heart in his throat, he looked around frantically. There was nowhere to go. No bars to try and squeeze himself through. No crevice in the crumbling walls to hide underneath. He found himself with only one option if he wanted any chance of living to see another day.

_Come on,_ the demon willed his feet to move, his survival instinct taking over everything else. As hopeless as this moment might seem, Crowley didn’t want to disappear. He didn’t _want_ to give up. Not if it meant ceasing to exist.

Not if it meant leaving Aziraphale behind.

_Move!_

Finally, his body began to cooperate. Crowley dashed down the hallway, his eyes wide, looking for anywhere he could escape. He resisted the urge to slow down and glance behind him. A visual confirmation that Belial was here would do nothing to save his life now. The only way out of this was to outrun the creature. Outrun them now. Outrun them next time. Outrun them for the rest of eternity.

Up ahead, Crowley saw the stone wall and for a moment, he thought all was lost. _No. _This couldn’t be a dead end. There had to be some kind of mistake! Several seconds later brought him a dozen or so feet closer and the split pathway revealed itself.

_Two roads diverged in a yellow wood_, his internal Aziraphale said, reciting one of the many poems he had in his collection. Crowley could have kicked himself if doing so would not doom him for all of eternity. Now was _not_ the time to be getting distracted.

Two roads. Two hallways. One choice that would decide if his six thousand year life would finally come to an end.

Crowley veered right because it seemed just as viable an option as going left. There was no way to tell which route was safe, which route lead to freedom and which route lead to destruction. No way to tell if he was doomed either way.

_I will find you,_ the whispered voices were getting closer and Crowley urged himself forward, despite the burning in his chest that shouldn’t be there. He didn’t need to breathe. Didn’t need the oxygen that was currently flowing through his veins, fueling him onward. That didn’t stop him from allowing the instinct to take over. He was operating almost entirely on instinct at this point. Pounding heart, ragged breathing, chills running up and down his spine, his hairs standing erect. He didn’t need any of it, but his body reacted in whatever way it saw fit. He didn’t have the energy to tell it not to. Footsteps echoed around him as the demon raced down the hallway, the flickering lights seaming to dim around him as he pushed himself onward. Faster and faster and faster.

Only to find himself face to face with a solid stone wall moments later.

_No. No no no!_ Crowley skidded to a halt. There had to be some mistake. His mind was playing tricks on him. The wall was an illusion. There was another passage somewhere nearby. If he just took a moment to double back, he could find it. This couldn’t be what he feared it was. This couldn’t be a dead end.

A shadow fell over Crowley’s figure - broad horns, wide jagged wings, a faint glowing red light. They were all visible on the wall in front of him. Belial was here. Right behind him. Crowley had finally been caught.

There was no escape. 

_It would appear you chose wrong, little demon._

The voices echoed around him as Crowley slowly turned to meet his fate. He could hear the high pitched screams echoing in his mind and wondered if that was what happened to all of Belial’s victims. Was he doomed to spend the rest of eternity trapped inside this being standing before him, screaming out in agony? Would he be aware of his own self after his soul had been ripped from him? Or would it feel like going to sleep? Wrapped in a blanket of darkness and silence, never to wake again.

Up close, illuminated by the lights hanging high upon the stone walls surrounding them, Belial looked more terrifying than Crowley could have ever imagined. Those blood-red eyes bored into his very soul as the creature took several steps toward him. Without even realizing it, the demon found himself moving, his back thudding up against the hard surface, cold grime seeping in through the fabric of his designer suit.

This was it. He was done for.

_Aziraphale,_ Crowley thought as tears filled his eyes. _Angel, I’m so sorry._

He had failed. Crowley had done this to himself. He’d been too careless, like always. He’d befriended an angel, destroyed a fellow demon with holy water, made countless enemies, stood up to Satan himself, stopped the apocalypse. He had let his guard down and allowed himself to be discorporated. He had allowed himself to return to Hell, knowing what that would mean for him. He had failed to find a way out. Failed to find a way back to his angel.

He had left Aziraphale all alone, to spend the rest of his life on Earth without anyone by his side. He had _abandoned_ the being he cherished most, above all others. He had let down the angel he adored with all his heart for the very last time.

_That’s it, little demon, _Belial taunted as they reached out and closed their jagged talons around Crowley’s neck, lifting him up into the air. _Give it all to me. Give me your hopelessness. Your worthlessness. Give me your thoughts of despair. _Belial’s eyes burned into Crowley’s as the demon fought to get away. _Let me take it from you. Let me take what is rightfully mine._

Crowley tried. In that moment, he fought harder to get away than he’d fought for anything else in his entire life. _Please,_ he could hear his mind screaming from within him. _Please don’t let this be the end. There’s so much more I want to do. So many things I want to say. Aziraphale….please._

He knew the angel couldn’t hear him. Couldn’t help him. But that did not keep Crowley from praying as much as he knew how.

_I like to think that none of this would have worked out if you weren’t, at heart, just a little bit a good person._ Aziraphale’s voice sounded in the back of his mind, bringing with it a spark of warmth to Crowley’s heart that should not have been possible given the demon’s certain circumstances. 

Crowley felt Belial’s grip on his throat tighten, cutting off all air to his lungs. Black spots danced in his vision as his struggling became weaker. He could feel the life force slowly draining from his body and the demon knew that he had lost. It was officially over.

Slowly, the images in front of him began to change. The black spots in his vision began to coalesce into a familiar figure with a round face, soft smile, and golden halo of curls.

“A-zira-phale…” the demon managed to choke out with what very well might be his last breath. The angel in his vision smiled and all of a sudden, Crowley was hurtling back through six thousand years of memories. Six thousand years worth of moments spent with his angel.

_He was standing on the wall of Eden, huddling underneath the outstretched wing of an angel he’d just met as the first raindrops fell around them. Crowley looked up and the angel smiled down at him, hesitantly, but still showing him a hint of kindness. It was more than Crowley deserved, and the sight of those kind eyes sparked a warmth in his heart that would remain for thousands of years to come._

_The scene shifted, and he was surrounded on all sides by mud and tar and wooden boards, looking up across the room to see an angel with pearly white wings gazing over at him. To his surprise, Crowley spotted a soft smile on the angel’s face, as they both stood watch over dozens of sleeping children, sheltering them from the raging storm outside that was determined to drown the entire world._

_He was in Rome, seated at a table when a familiar voice caught his attention. It had been the first time the angel had sought him out. The first time he had showed a desire for Crowley’s attention and the invitation to lunch caused that spark of warmth in his demonic heart to blossom into a bright flame._

_Memory after memory flooded his mind as a distant scream began to echo softly around him. Crowley paid it no attention. He was too wrapped up in the visions flashing before his eyes. Aziraphale’s bright smile as he promised to work a little miracle for Shakespeare's Hamlet, the warmth in Aziraphale’s voice as he greeted Crowley at the Bastille, the way Aziraphale had looked at him as they had picked their way through the rubble of a ruined church. _

They were all of the angel. Memories of Aziraphale’s soft smiles, his kind words, his thoughtful actions. All directed at Crowley. All because he cared for the demon. Because, for some inexplicable reason, Aziraphale thought Crowley was worth something. And if Aziraphale thought Crowley was worth something, maybe the demon could as well. 

The scream in his mind grew louder and louder until Crowley thought his head might burst. The tightness around his throat suddenly loosened and the demon found himself gasping for air he did not need. His sight returned in full force, banishing the blackness from every corner of his vision and revealing the miraculous event that had just occurred.

A vibrant golden light was everywhere, spilling out of every crevice in Crowley’s body, flooding the hallway with an energy so intense, the demon was sure he would combust under the pressure of it all. And yet, the light did not harm him. It flowed from his fingertips, his eyes, his ears, mouth, face, every inch of exposed skin. It rocketed out of him in beams of pure, amazing, miraculous force, banishing the darkness and the cold and everything that lurked within it.

Crowley watched in slow motion as the light left his body, slamming into Belial with a force so great it knocked the creature to the ground. The demon watched in wide-eyed wonder as his pursuer screamed in obvious agony, writhing on the floor as the smell of burnt flesh filled the hallway around them.

They weren’t destroyed, not by a long shot, but inexplicably Crowley was no longer afraid. Belial looked up at him, crawling to their knees with glowing red eyes and Crowley did not flinch. He did not look away. He did nothing but breathe in deeply and take a single step forward.

Up until that moment, Crowley wouldn’t have believed a creature like Belial could feel any emotion except a deep desire and hunger to hunt and destroy. There was no mistaking the fear in their eyes now as they looked up at Crowley, still shining brightly like the sun. The demon watched with a strange mix of satisfaction and relief settling into his chest as the creature scrambled to their feet and took several steps back.

Darkness that usually hovered in a cloud around them, clung to Belial’s frame, trying to cover all the areas where their skin had been scorched by the light. Their wide wings were tattered and had several smoldering holes throughout. Even the broad skull upon their head had been singed, black scorch marks marring its once pristine surface.

Crowley took another step forward, feeling as if Aziraphale were standing right beside him. Even though he knew the angel was forever away, he _believed_ Aziraphale was with him, tucked away somewhere deep inside his heart where he would remain, no matter what the circumstance.

Adrenaline coursing through his body, the demon sneered down at Belial, light still glowing from every exposed surface on him. Their gaze met one more time before the Devourer of Souls rose to their feet and limped away, disappearing around the corner, their whispering voice fading away into nothingness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright guys, we are officially 1/3 of the way done with this story. I hope you all are enjoying it so far! This may have been my favorite chapter to write so far, but we've got plenty more amazing ones coming up.
> 
> If you have the time and feel so inclined, I'd love for you to leave me a comment. Even something as simple as ' :) ' seriously makes my day <3 You all are wonderful and I thank you so much for being here to support both Lei_sam and I in our collaboration!
> 
> See you on Tuesday as we check back in with Aziraphale and see if he is able to get his sword back!


	12. Chapter 11

The International Express Delivery office was located in downtown London, sandwiched between Krispy Kreme and a Wells Fargo Bank. Aziraphale had never actually been there before, but after a few quick phone calls, he’d been able to come up with the address he needed to find it.

After the events at Armageddon, Aziraphale had been more than happy to part with his sword. In all honesty, he hadn’t much wanted it at the beginning. He was a Principality, and although that meant Aziraphale knew how to use a weapon of that caliber, it did not mean he particularly enjoyed fighting. At least, not under any normal circumstances.

Things were different now. Crowley was trapped somewhere down in Hell and Aziraphale had tried almost everything to reach his demon with no luck. He was running out of options and feared he was also running out of time.

So far, each of the demons he had talked to claimed they did not know where Crowley was. Aziraphale had no way to tell if they were telling the truth or not. If the demons had been lying to him, it was logical to think Crowley was alright. Or, if he wasn’t alright, he was at least still alive. If Lord Beelzebub or one of the other higher ranking demons had decided to end Crowley permanently, what reason would they have to want to keep that information a secret? The demons Aziraphale had interacted with should have been gloating about such a feat. Instead, they had acted like they hadn’t known what the angel was talking about.

Which meant they probably hadn’t been lying. But then what? What did that knowledge give him? If these demons hadn’t seen Crowley in the months since he’d been gone, then where was he? Were Beelzebub and the others keeping him locked away? Hidden from the rest of the lesser demons? Had Crowley managed to keep his presence in Hell secret all this time in an attempt to get back to Earth safely?

So many questions, and after months of searching, Aziraphale still had no answers.

Gritting his teeth and looking up at the front door of the office building, Aziraphale felt a fierce determination crash through him like waves against a rocky shore. If Hell didn’t want to let him in or give him answers, that was fine. Aziraphale had other ways to get the information he needed. 

Without another thought, the angel strode in the front door. 

He was met with a smile as the front desk clerk looked up from his newspaper at Aziraphale’s arrival. The lobby area was minimal, taken up almost completely by the desk in front of him and a small collection of armchairs off to his right. A singular potted shrub sat in the corner. Aziraphale’s heart twinged painfully at the sight, thinking how disappointed Crowley would be if he’d been here to see the plant’s sorry state. The demon likely would have insisted on taking it home himself in an attempt to return the species to its former glory.

“Good morning, sir,” the clerk began as Aziraphale approached the desk. “Welcome to the International Express Delivery Office. Can I assist you with anything?”

Azirpahale tore his gaze away from the plant and fixed it back on the man currently sitting before him. He was on the younger side, likely in his early to mid thirties, with a shaved head and finely trimmed beard. The man peered up at Aziraphale through his glasses, still offering him a welcoming smile as the angel began to speak.

“Yes,” Aziraphale began, “I’m looking for an object of mine. It was picked up from me about nine months ago. On a Saturday night, I believe. By one of your delivery drivers.”

The man nodded. “What sort of item was this?”

The angel paused. Would this human agree to help him if Aziraphale revealed what he was really looking for? Would they even have records for a thing like that? The delivery man who had come to collect all the horsemen’s objects had most definitely been human. Would they be able to identify his sword from any other? How many deliveries of those types of objects did they even have on a regular basis?

“A sword,” the angel answered, finally. “A flaming one, to be precise.”

If the man was surprised by Aziraphale’s request, he didn’t show it. Turning away, the clerk began typing away at the laptop situated just to his right. Aziraphale could see the barest reflection of the screen in the man’s glasses, but wasn’t able to clearly read its contents. He waited patiently as the clerk paused several times in his actions, his frown growing increasingly more pronounced after each one.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the clerk responded. “But I don’t have anything like that listed in our records.”

Aziraphale mirrored the man’s frown. That couldn’t be right. The deliveryman who had come to retrieve the sword had most definitely worked for this company. And this was the only office in all of southern England. It had to be here.

“Are you sure?” the angel asked, forcing a smile onto his face. Gently he brought his hands together in front of his waist, clenching them together tightly in an attempt to keep them from shaking too much. “I distinctly remember one of your delivery men approaching me at the Tadfield bus stop.”

Something flickered in the depths of the human’s eyes at the mention of ‘Tadfield’. Without another word, the clerk got up from his desk and walked over to a file cabinet tucked up against the wall behind him. In less than two minutes, Aziraphale witnessed him pull out a thin manila envelope covered almost entirely in red.

“Ah,” the man murmured, the corners of his mouth pulling downward into a frown. His eyes flickered up to Aziraphale’s face momentarily as he crossed back to the desk and reached for the black corded phone. “One moment please, sir. I’m going to need to get my manager to speak to you.”

His manager? Aziraphale was surprised. As far as he was aware, none of these humans should remember the events that transpired in Tadfield. Why would the revelation of his sword’s previous location require Aziraphale to speak to a manager?

“Hello?” The man’s voice started up again and Aziraphale leaned in a bit closer, trying to sneak a peek at the folder still lying out on the desk in front of him. Unfortunately, the exterior of the envelope had nothing to reveal. Other than the alarming color and the word ‘Tadfield’ printed in bold lettering across the center, there was little else to be seen. “Yes. There’s a man here at the front desk.” The clerk broke off, his eyes flashing up to Aziraphale’s face once more. The angel smiled in what he hoped would be a welcoming way. 

“He’s here asking about Tadfield. I thought you might want to talk to him yourself.”

There was silence for a moment, and then the man abruptly placed the phone back in its place. He straightened, lifting a hand to readjust his burgundy tie and gestured to the collection of armchairs Aziraphale had passed on his way in. “Please, make yourself comfortable. She’ll be right down.”

No sooner had Aziraphale turned around and taken two steps toward the seating area, than he heard the distinct sound of a door opening nearby. The angel turned his head, expecting to see some sort of businesswoman, with cropped, pin-straight hair, dressed in a sleek black dress and fancy heels to match, based on the sound of the footsteps echoing as they approached him.

His eyes went wide the moment he saw an old, but very familiar face.

“Lauriel?”

The angel standing before him flashed him one of the widest grins he had ever seen. For a moment, Aziraphale thought she might just rush up and hug him, but Lauriel held herself back. Instead, she gestured for him to follow her, a twinkle of amusement in her eye as he stared at her with wide blue eyes.

“I know, I know,” she responded, a light tease to her voice as she lifted a hand adorned with pastel pink fingernails and flipped several of the tight black ringlets of hair over her shoulder. “Seeing a real live angel can be quite shocking. But, I promise. You’ll get used to it.”

She flashed him a wink and Aziraphale was finally able to tear his eyes away from her, glancing over toward the clerk who had taken his seat once again. Apparently, nothing about their conversation stood out as strange to him, because the man hardly reacted at all.

“Come on,” Lauriel prompted, giving him a wave - her smile warm and chocolate brown eyes inviting. “You must have a few questions for me. Why don’t we head back to my office?”

Unable to do anything but nod his head, Aziraphale followed the other angel down the hall toward the door where she’d entered from, his mind reeling all the while. What was she doing here? Aziraphale hadn’t seen Lauriel in several millennia. Not since before the flood. And _certainly_ not anywhere near England, or Europe, for that matter.

Lauriel was an angel, like him. Another Principality. In the early years, when humanity was still young, Aziraphale had been all that Heaven needed to watch over them. But as their numbers grew and they began to spread out across the globe, others had been sent to assist.

Last he’d heard, Lauriel had been stationed somewhere in North America. So what was she doing here? Had she been restationed, and if so, why hadn’t he been notified? And what was her relationship with the International Express?

Upon reaching the door, Lauriel turned to flash him a wink. “Right this way.”

Aziraphale followed her inside the room, pausing in the doorway as he took in the wide expanse of windows lining the far wall. Somehow, they had gone from the bottom floor of a tiny building downtown to the penthouse suite of some swanky skyscraper. The whole room was decorated in a very professional manner, with a grand wooden desk, leather seats, a spattering of houseplants, and a polished marble floor so clean, Aziraphale could practically see his reflection in it.

For a moment, Aziraphale opened his mouth to ask her how they had ended up here, but then thought better of it. He was dealing with an angel, so he really shouldn’t be so surprised.

“I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to see you, Aziraphale,” the other angel began, reaching out her hand in greeting. Hesitantly, Aziraphale returned the gesture, surprised at how strong her grip felt in his. Lauriel was beaming from ear to ear, a hint of rosy color rising to the surface of her dark skin.

“It - it is?” Aziraphale found himself at a loss for words. Lauriel had been on Earth nearly as long as he had, give or take a thousand years, but she was still an angel. Still an agent of Heaven. After everything that had happened earlier this year, shouldn’t she be angered by his presence? Wasn’t she upset with him for stopping the war to end all wars?

Once again, Lauriel beamed. “Of course!” She clapped her hands together in excitement. “Aziraphale, I cannot express to you how grateful I am for all that you have done. Finding the Antichrist, stopping Armageddon - ”

Aziraphale’s eyes went wide. “You’re actually...happy about all that?”

He had thought her smile couldn’t get any wider. How wrong an assumption that was.

“Oh, yes!” Lauriel exclaimed, her eyes glossing over with unshed tears. “We all had our part to play in bringing about the end of the world, and as much as I didn’t like the idea of performing mine, I had the Horsemen’s items delivered as the Great Plan stated. But you!” She broke off, pointing both her index fingers toward him, hands still clasped together. “You figured it all out. You found the missing Antichrist and convinced him to save the world!”

“Well,” Aziraphale mumbled, a blush rising to his cheeks as he thought of the demon with intense amber eyes and flaming red hair that had stood by his side through it all. “I didn’t exactly do it alone.”

Lauriel’s smile turned from a wide grin into a gentle thing as she looked at Aziraphale’s change in demeanor. “That’s right. Where is that demonic acquaintance of yours? I should like to thank him too. After all, it’s because of the both of you that Earth continues to spin on her axis, and I’ll admit, I’ve grown rather fond of humanity over the years.”

The angel paused and turned her head to look out the wide window. Even from his position across the room, Aziraphale could see down onto several of the streets and all the people going about their days, just as they always had.

“I didn’t want them to all die.”

This admission was much softer, but Aziraphale heard it all the same. He felt himself relax for the first time since stepping into this building, the thudding in his heart slowly beginning to quiet in volume. 

“Crowley is actually why I’m here,” Aziraphale ventured softly, meeting Lauriel’s gaze as she turned to face him once more. “He was discorporated a little over three months ago by a demon.” The angel forced his voice not to break as he continued. “I’ve been trying to reach him - trying to find him and bring him back but no one seems to know where he is.”

Taking a deep breath, the angel plowed on. No point in dawdling anymore. Time to get to the real reason he was here.

“I’m worried something has happened to him,” Aziraphale admitted. “And I need you to give me my sword back so I can find him.”

Lauriel’s face fell. “I don’t know, Aziraphale.” He could sense her hesitation hanging in the space between them. “You don’t need me to tell you how dangerous that sword is. In the wrong hands -”

“I know,” Aziraphale tried to keep the desperation out of his voice. “I won’t let it get into the wrong hands, and as soon as Crowley is back on Earth, I’ll bring the sword back. But I _need _it, Lauriel. I need it to find him. I -”

_I love him. _Aziraphale’s throat closed around the words, preventing them from escaping. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to say them. There were no truer words in the entire universe. Aziraphale did love Crowley. Had loved him for a long time, even if he could never admit it.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Aziraphale had never said those words out loud. Not once. And shouldn’t the first time they came to light be in Crowley’s presence? Shouldn’t his demon be the first one to hear them? Didn’t he owe Crowley at least that much, after everything he had put the demon through over their very long friendship?

“I’ve grown rather fond of him over the years,” the angel finally said, echoing Lauriel’s earlier sentiments, hoping she would understand.

Lauriel was silent for a moment. That moment turned into two and then three. With each second that ticked by, Aziraphale felt himself growing more and more nervous. Would she really turn him away? Tell Aziraphale that he couldn’t have his God-given sword back? He had tried everything else imaginable to find Crowley. This was his last option. If Lauriel didn’t agree to give him the sword back, what was he going to do? Would he try and force her to give it to him? Steal it while she wasn’t looking?

The thought of doing any of those things made Aziraphale sick to his stomach, but what other choice did he have. He _had_ to get Crowley back. Whatever that meant.

“Alright,” Lauriel finally sighed, nodding her head. Without another word, she crossed the room, making her way over to a set of twin bookshelves, neatly filled with rows of encyclopedias and various other textbooks all lined up perfectly on the shelves, so unlike Aziraphale’s own bookcases back home. 

The angel followed slowly behind, his blue eyes trained on Lauriel’s hand as she lifted it and pressed her palm against the center of the blank section of wall situated between the two shelves. A seam began to glow a soft green color straight down the center, from floor to ceiling. Aziraphale watched as in the next moment, the front wall vanished, revealing a small compartment with three objects mounted to the back wall. A crown, a scale, and a sword.

_His _sword. 

A soft _tink _resounded around them as Lauriel removed the sword from its mount and turned to face Aziraphale. She looked up at him with hardened eyes and a tightness to her lips - an expression that felt completely out of place compared to the angel’s typical bright demeanor.

Silently, she handed over the sword, watching with unblinking eyes as Aziraphale gripped it in his hand, the warmth of the hilt spreading from his palm, down his arm and through the rest of his body. The sword lit up with his silent command, the bright orange flames casting a flickering glow across both their skin, the bright light of it reflected in their eyes. 

It was then that Aziraphale remembered what she was. A Principality, like him. Lauriel may have found her place on Earth here, watching over the humans, miracuously helping them find a precious item they’d once lost or helping ensure an important package got delivered on time, but she was and would always be a warrior. She would always be there to fight to protect the thing she loved most.

As would he.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. I've been sick for the past five days with the flu and almost forgot today was Tuesday. That would have been a disaster!
> 
> I hope you guys like this chapter! Now that Aziraphale has gotten his sword back, things are about to get pretty crazy. Also, I may or may not have some of Lei_sam's wonderful artwork to share with you all for next week's update, so be on the lookout for that :)
> 
> As always, comments are not necessary, but much appreciated. See you all on Friday for an update on Crowley!


	13. Chapter 12

The light still glowed beneath his skin, even after Crowley stood there in the deserted hallway, too awestruck to move. He watched, transfixed, as the golden light danced in his veins, swirling underneath his skin like stardust in the night’s sky. 

What  _ was _ this? What was happening to him? Where had this light come from? Why was it still here? And most importantly, how the  _ fuck _ had it hurt Belial?

Crowley could feel his heart racing. He could hear it thudding loudly against his chest, rattling around in his ribcage, shaking as violently as his arms and his hands and his whole entire body.

He was alive.  _ He was alive.  _ How the fuck was he still alive? Belial had caught up to him. Belial had their hands around his throat. Belial was sucking out their very soul. That was it. In that moment, Crowley had known he was a goner. He had known it was all over for him. So what had happened? How in all of creation was he still alive?

_ Breathe _ , the voice inside his head urged, sounding suspiciously like Aziraphale. Crowley’s heart ached at the thought of his angel and the light inside of him glowed brighter for a fraction of a moment. Warmth spread through him in an instant, starting from the center of his chest, spiraling out in a sandstorm of light until even his very fingertips were glowing a soft golden color. 

As impossible as it may seem, Crowley almost felt like Aziraphale was there with him, in that moment. He could practically picture the angel standing there beside him with a soft smile on his rounded face, looking over at the demon with obvious fondness in his eyes. Crowley might have smiled back if doing so didn’t admit just how much he missed his angel.

Crowley blinked, focusing his attention back on the present moment. Now what? He’d defeated Belial, perhaps forever, perhaps only for the time being. That didn’t help him escape from this infinite maze. That didn’t help him get past those seals locking him down here. That didn’t help him get home to his angel.

All that was left to do was what he’d been doing all along. All Crowley  _ could _ do was walk and hope that somewhere there might be a way out. Hope that someone had made a mistake. Hope that there was at least  _ one _ doorway left unprotected that would leave him out of here.

It wasn’t an easy thing - hope - but Crowley found it much easier to hold onto with this strange energy coursing through him. It was warm and comfortable. It felt like - well it felt a lot like being nestled up inside the bookstore. It felt like Crowley lounging on the couch, dozing as the bright summer sun filtered in through the window. It felt like Aziraphale’s presence nearby, tucked into his favorite armchair with a book in hand. It felt like comfortable silences and sharing smiles and walking arm in arm through the park. 

It felt like a wing extending over him, sheltering him from the rain.

It felt like home.

And it was that feeling that urged Crowley onward. The demon may not be as intelligent as Aziraphale, but he was determined. He’d just single-handedly taken down one of the most powerful demons in all of creation. If he could do that, Crowley could find his way out of a stupid maze. He was nothing if not resourceful.

He was going to make it home. He was going to make it back to his angel and then he was going to take a nap. For at least a week, preferably with Aziraphale tucked in bed beside him. Crowley knew the angel didn’t sleep. That was perfectly alright with him. Aziraphale could sit on the bed with him and read every book in his entire shop three times over, if he wanted to. As long as Crowley could curl up beside him with the covers drawn up to his ears and his head just barely brushing the angel’s side. As long as Crowley could open his eyes for the briefest of moments and see that Aziraphale was still there. As long as Crowley could breathe in deeply and still smell the familiar scents of worn parchment and fresh tea leaves, he would be perfectly content. 

But was that what Aziraphale wanted? Crowley hesitated, his heart skipping a beat in his chest. Did Aziraphale  _ want _ to stay by his side while he slept? Did Aziraphale  _ want _ Crowley to stay in his bookshop for days on end while he recovered? Surely the angel wouldn’t mind, would he? Crowley assumed Aziraphale would be happy to see him again, after being trapped in Hell for the week or two that he’d been here, but what if the angel had better things to do? What if he requested that Crowley go back to his flat to rest, and phone over whenever he was recovered?

At that thought, the demon’s stomach roiled. He did not like that. Crowley did not like that thought at all. Just imagining going back to his flat  _ alone _ , for any length of time made him want to be sick. No. No, this just wouldn’t do. If Aziraphale didn’t want him around, that was fine. Crowley would find some nice cave somewhere far away where he could curl up and sleep. Some remote location where he wouldn’t be bothered. 

Where no one would be able to find him. 

And then, when he was recovered, he would call Aziraphale up. Ask him to go to lunch, or go feed the ducks at the park. And maybe,  _ maybe, _ if he was feeling brave enough, he might ask the angel if he was up for rescheduling their date. 

_ Please, oh please, let him want to reschedule.  _ Crowley shut his eyes for a moment, taking in deep, steadying breaths.  _ Please let him still want this. _

Footsteps echoed in the distance in front of him, pulling the demon from his thoughts. Crowley stopped. He’d heard them a little while back, assuming them to be his own, but there was something off about them. The cadence wasn’t quite right. These footsteps sounded more like a march than a saunter. They struck the ground with purpose, like the owner had a destination in mind. 

Up ahead, Crowley saw the unmistakable sign of another gate. He slowed in his approach, listening for the previous sound. It was there, alright, just on the other side of the iron gate.

The other side of the gate. Crowley frowned. This was a first. Up until now, the only other beings he had seen down here had been on  _ his  _ side. Belial had been trapped down here, sealed away with some sort of demonic miracle, and Cortaz - well, Cortaz had been too insane to realize he wasn’t quite as stuck as he might have originally believed himself to be. 

In one fluid motion, Crowley reached into the front pocket of his suit and pulled out a familiar pair of black sunglasses. He pressed his back firmly up against the wall and held the glasses out in front of him. The light was dim here, but there was enough of it to just barely see through the bars to the other side. Crowley held his breath as the footsteps grew closer and closer, watching with wide eyes as the corridor on the other side of the gate began to grow lighter bit by bit.

Finally, another figure came into view. From the reflection against the black lenses, Crowley could see his new companion was another demon - one of the more humanoid looking ones, with spiky blonde hair and the barest hint of horns poking out from the top of his forehead. In one hand, the newcomer held a torch, suspending it out in front of him to illuminate as much of the nearby area. In the other was a single piece of paper that he was studying with great concentration.

So much concentration, in fact, that the demon didn’t notice Crowley as he approached the gate. He didn’t notice Crowley as he lifted up the torch and hung it up somewhere on the wall. Didn’t notice Crowley as he held the piece of paper out in front of him, looking back and forth between it and something on the wall in front of him.

There had to be something here. Something he could use. Should he talk to the demon? What if that spooked him and he ran away? Crowley couldn’t take a chance like that. Not when it had been ages since he’d seen another living soul down here that didn’t want to completely destroy him. If he alerted the demon to his presence, there was a very good chance he could lose any shot he had.

Any shot at what, though? How could this one measly demon help Crowley escape? What was he even doing down here all by himself? And what in the blazes was he doing with that piece of paper?

Crowley studied the demon for several more moments before he finally began to understand. He was fairly certain that the other creature was studying the seals that were certainly etched into the stone on either side of the gate. There was no way to know for sure, but if Crowley had to guess, he would have gone with the assumption that the bit of paper in the demon’s hands was some sort of instruction set, telling him what to do. Almost like some sort of maintenance worker who was going through a certain procedure for the first time. 

His stomach flipped excitedly as the thought entered Crowley’s mind. What if this demon  _ was  _ down here doing some sort of maintenance? That meant the seal had weakened. And if the seal had weakened - if it needed to be repaired or updated, there might actually be a way out of this.

Hands trembling, Crowley shifted the sunglasses in his hands, careful not to let any of the torchlight or the light he was currently exuding reflect directly back on the other demon’s face. It would do him no good to alert the creature now. Not when this was likely Crowley’s only ticket home.

Problem was, Crowley had no idea exactly what he was supposed to be doing. There was a possibility that if the seal had weakened somehow, he could just turn into a snake and slip out. But what if it hadn’t weakened enough? If he turned into a snake, the other demon would certainly see him. And if he was down here to reinforce the seals, he had to know that Crowley’s name was on one of them. The second he saw a giant black and red snake, that demon would bolt and there was no telling if he would ever come back. 

If Crowley assumed his serpent form and the seal was still effective, he would be back to square one. Stuck in this labyrinth prison of dingy corridors with no end in sight, and no way back to his angel.

_ Aziraphale, _ he pleaded, closing his eyes for the briefest of moments.  _ Help me out here. What do I do, you brilliant bastard? Help me get home to you. _

Crowley didn’t believe in the power of prayer. What demon would? And yet.  _ And yet. _ For some unknown, inexplicable reason, the demon’s mind was suddenly filled with images of Aziraphale, with flaming red hair, a sizeable amount of makeup, and a vibrantly patterned overcoat.

_ What made you think to possess a human?  _ Crowley had asked later that fateful day, once angel and demon had retired to the bookshop to continue with their celebratory evening.  _ Bloody brilliant idea you had there, angel. _

Aziraphale had simply smiled back at him, practically glowing with giddy joy, the faintest hint of a blush rising to his cheeks.  _ I don’t know, my dear, _ the angel had replied in between fits of giggling that made Crowley’s heart feel warm and light.  _ I just thought ‘demons can do it’. There’s no reason why I shouldn’t be able to as well. And off I went. _

Back in the depths of Hell, Crowley pulled himself out of his memories and smiled. It wasn’t necessarily a confident smile, nor a triumphant smile. Not yet. It was the smile of a demon with an idea.

_ Well _ , he thought, tucking the sunglasses back into the front pocket of his suit.  _ Here goes nothing _ .

Crowley struck without a sound. He made no shout of surprise, no yell of triumph, not even a single rush of air as one second he stood pressed with his back against the stone wall, and the next his long, slender arms were reaching through the bars and grasping onto the other demon’s hands.

There was a brief moment of startled silence from both parties as Crowley’s hand made contact with the other demon’s skin. Then, before the other demon had a chance to react, Crowley felt a brief flash of warmth course through his entire body, and he was gone.

Well, not gone in the exact sense of the word. One minute, he had been standing on Belial’s side of the gate, trapped behind shifting bars that would adapt to his every shape and size to keep him contained, and the next he was standing on the  _ other _ side of the gate, staring at a twin set of subtly glowing seals from a pair of eyes that did not belong to him.

_ Holy shit _ . It had worked.

_ It had worked. _ Crowley had successfully entered the other demon’s body. He was currently  _ possessing _ said demon. He was seeing the world through the other demon’s eyes. Hearing everything with the other demon’s ears. Dictating the other demon’s movements. 

He was in complete control, for the time being. And although Crowley wanted to take a moment and bask in his victory, there was still work to be done. It wouldn’t do to get ahead of himself now. Not when he was  _ so close _ .

“Sorry about this, buddy,” Crowley said in a voice that was very much not his own. Hearing that sound was music to his ears.

His host body offered no resistance, either because it could not or the other demon was too shocked to put up much of a fight. With one fluid motion, Crowley lifted the demon’s arm and snapped two thin fingers together. The instant the sound emerged around him, Crowley felt his demonic essence flow outward into a space nearby. The sensation was similar to how he imagined every dust particle must feel as it got sucked up into the vortex of a vacuum cleaner. 

Gasping, Crowley felt himself materialize once more. He staggered forward, catching himself on the nearest wall as he heard the distinct thud of a body hitting the floor. Wincing, Crowley turned to look down at the demon collapsed at his feet. He hadn’t been discorporated - just knocked out. 

Despite how annoying the realization was, Crowley was thankful the other demon hadn’t been seriously injured. It wasn’t the poor kid’s fault Crowley had gotten trapped down here. And he could have made things much more difficult for Crowley had he actually put up a fight. All in all, things couldn’t have turned out better. Crowley was on the other side of the gate, back in a  _ normal _ part of Hell. He was alert, warm light still pulsing in his veins, feeling more hopeful than he had in days.

He was finally,  _ finally  _ homeward bound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday everyone! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter :) feel free to leave a comment and tell us what you think! They are much appreciated.
> 
> On Tuesday we shall see some of the long awaited avenging angel scenes, so stay tuned!


	14. Chapter 13

The club was bouncing with energy tonight. 

Aziraphale watched from the outside. Once upon a time, the angel might have gone inside. Once upon a time, he might have put on a nice outfit and dropped the miracle that kept him hidden in plain sight. Once upon a time, he might have said hello to the humans inside, might have had a few drinks. Might have even danced, if he’d been in a good mood. 

Not tonight. Not anymore. Aziraphale would not be going inside. He wouldn’t need to, not if he was patient enough.

His target would come to him, eventually. The angel just had to wait. 

He sat outside on a bench across the street, passing the time by flipping through a newspaper he had picked up earlier that day. There wasn’t too much exciting going on that Aziraphale could find. A few new movie releases, more technological advances he didn’t understand, rumors of escalating tensions in the Baltics, but nothing of substantial importance. 

The angel turned to the ‘comics’ section and began to read, not bothering to lift his eyes toward the door across the street from him. Aziraphale knew he wouldn’t need to. When the time came, he would sense his target, without a doubt. 

And that time did come, eventually. If he had allowed himself to feel it, Aziraphale might have felt himself go stiff with the chill that permeated the air, but that would not be conducive to what he had planned. Instead, Aziraphale kept his body at the perfect temperature, to ensure he was ready. When the unmistakable scent of sulfur suddenly drifted over toward him, Aziraphale was on his feet in an instant. 

Across the street, the angel spotted his target. The demon wasn’t difficult to pick out of the crowd, trailing behind a trio of younger men he was likely trying to tempt. Anger burned in the pit of Aziraphale’s stomach as he stepped forward to cross the street, making sure all traffic approaching him suddenly felt the need to slam on their brakes, although there was nothing there for them to see.

Blazing sword in hand, Aziraphale approached the demon, his blue eyes glowing in the darkness of the night. No one turned their attention toward him, Aziraphale made sure of that, and by the time the demon noticed his approach it was too late.

The creature squeaked in alarm at the sight of him and immediately darted down an alley. It was a lesser demon, Aziraphale could tell by the look in its eye as the demon had registered his presence. He could tell by the overwhelming presence of fear that had filled the air in that moment. A Duke might have been wary of Aziraphale, but they would not have felt such a strong rush of fear. At least, not at first.

The demon didn’t get very far. In less than a minute, Aziraphale had cornered him, trapping the creature between himself and a chain link fence spanning the width of the alleyway. For a moment, the angel wondered if his target would try and scale the barrier in an attempt to get away. He had the claws for it - donning the appearance of the sort of demon one might find in old Renaissance drawings. He was wearing no clothes, leaving his molted brown skin and long barbed tail on display for all who had the ability to see him. Luckily, most humans did not.

“S-stay away from me!” the demon snarled at Aziraphale, flashing two rows of pointed yellow teeth. Aziraphale paid his request no mind and stepped forward, fixing his blue eyes on the creature. The demon visibly flinched and took a step back, pressing himself up against the chain link fence until it dug into his back, preventing him from moving any further. 

“I will leave you alone, so long as you agree to help me,” Aziraphale stated calmly, sword dangling innocently from his hands. He hadn’t ignited it, not yet, but he could tell the demon could sense its power, despite the distance that now sat between them. “I’m looking for someone, a demonic acquaintance of mine. I’d like for you to tell me where he is.”

The demon shifted his glance from Aziraphale’s face, down to his sword, and back up again. “What makes you think I would know where he is?”

Aziraphale gritted his teeth, pushing down his frustration for a moment. “One of your kind discorporated him. Logically speaking, that means he must have ended up in Hell. Which is where you just came from, if I’m not mistaken.”

To his surprise, the demon stopped cowering. Standing up to his full height, the creature was easily over six feet tall. He didn’t quite tower over Aziraphale, but he came close to it. The angel tightened his grip on his sword, but did nothing. 

“If you know he’s down in Hell, why do you need me?”

It was a logical question. Aziraphale couldn’t fault the demon for asking it, and yet he felt a quiet rage beginning to simmer beneath his skin. It wasn’t the actual words the demon had said, but the way he had said them that caused Aziraphale’s blood to boil. He was in no mood to deal with this petulant creature. 

“He’s been missing for quite a while,” the angel explained, trying to keep his voice level. “And despite all my best efforts, I haven’t been able to locate him and bring him back. You live in Hell, surely you must have heard something.”

The demon scoffed and had the audacity to brush him off. “Look, angel. I don’t have time to help you locate your missing boyfriend, alright? I’ve got temptations to accomplish, so if you’ll excuse me - ”

He made a move to step forward, and in an instant, the sword was aflame and pointed directly at his face. The demon hesitated, eyes blowing wide. The fear was back, but Aziraphale could see a hardness reflected in the demon’s grey eyes. This one wasn’t going to go down without a fight. 

Without warning, the demon’s tail darted forward, slashing at Aziraphale’s shoulder. The angel felt the sharp barb of its tail slice through the sleeve of his coat, but before it could bite into his skin, he was swinging his sword through the air. It met little resistance as the blade bit into the leathery flesh, a satisfying thud echoing around them as the demon’s tail fell to the ground between their feet.

The creature howled in pain, clutching at the newly created nub as he stumbled backward. Aziraphale used this to his advantage, pressing forward, the orange light reflecting cleanly off the demon’s wide eyes. A hiss sounded around them as the creature dropped his injured extremity and lashed out with his claws, jaws open wide as sharp teeth made a beeline for Aziraphale’s exposed neck.

Swifter than he should have been able to move, Aziraphale spun to the side, bringing his blade down against the demon’s back as it passed by him. More screams echoed in the cold air surrounding them as flaming steel bit into flesh and the demon crumpled to his knees.

Aziraphale watched with ice cold eyes as the creature meekly tried to crawl away. Realizing his target had no answers for him, the angel stepped forward and thrust the blade down, cutting off the piercing sound mid-scream. 

With a wave of his wrist, the demonic carcass was gone and Aziraphale found himself back at step one.

Time to locate another resident of Hell and hope they would be more willing to help his cause.

* * *

Four Archangels stood in a vast room, the only source of color a single floating sphere in the center. Their eyes were fixed, not on the globe itself, but on the image that now shimmered above it. They watched in silence as an angel with dusty white curls and a flaming orange sword took off down the street. They didn’t know which one - there were many streets such as this on Earth - and to them, it didn’t really matter. 

They watched in silence as the angel approached a figure clad in murky brown clothes with a hood drawn up over their head, obscuring the lines of their face. They watched in silence as the angel stopped, tendrils of shadows pouring out of him like smoke from a fire. They watched in silence as the angel spoke. They watched in silence as the demon sneered. They watched in silence as blue eyes flashed brightly in the night and a flaming sword found its next target.

Eventually, it was Gabriel who broke their silence. 

“You know,” the Archangel began, violet eyes trained on the scene unfolding below on Earth, “as much as it pains me to say it. Aziraphale has done some rather impressive work recently.”

Sandalphon and Michael were quick to agree. “Oh, yes,” Michael piped up, folding their hands neatly in front of them as the echo of the demon’s screams faded around them. “Quite surprising, but not altogether unwelcome.”

Gabriel nodded his head. “Who would have thought that demon acquaintance of his would have proven to be so useful.” He chuckled softly to himself before turning away from the globe. Now that Aziraphale’s target had been taken care of, it would take the Principality some time to find his next one. Demons were vile creatures, that was not debatable, but they were not all stupid. After a few incidents with Aziraphale, they would learn that London was no longer a safe place to be. Aziraphale would have to leave the city if he wanted to carry on with his crusade.

“If I had known Aziraphale would take up his sword again, I would have discorporated the demon myself centuries ago.”

Quiet murmurs of agreement echoed around him and Gabriel felt a satisfied smile growing across his face. This really was excellent news. Aziraphale had been such a thorn in his side since the beginning. And that whole disastrous debacle at Armageddon. The Archangel cringed at the thought of it. 

But now? Well, things finally looked like they were turning around. He was excited to see where this new development would take them.

“You don’t think he’s gone too far?” Uriel asked, stopping Gabriel in his tracks. The Archangel turned to his companion, eyebrows raising in an unspoken question.

“It just seems a bit extreme,” Uriel pointed out, her brown eyes glistening with concern. “Aziraphale isn’t just discorporating them, you know. He is destroying them.”

Gabriel nodded, a look of disbelief crossing over onto his face. “Yeah,” he responded, irritation seeping into his voice. “I think that’s rather the point, isn’t it?” He paused, and when Uriel did not respond, Gabriel continued. “We wanted a war, didn’t we? That’s how the world was supposed to end until the wonder twins mucked it all up. What did you think was going to happen? That we’d all hold hands and sing ‘kumbaya’ after it was all over?”

Uriel shook her head. “I am just reminding you that Aziraphale is not one of us. He may be down there slaughtering demons, but that does not mean he is doing so for Heaven’s benefit.”

This time, Gabriel said nothing. A frown replaced his previous smile and the Archangel turned away, stalking off before Uriel or any of the others could say something else intelligent and ruin his mood even further.

* * *

“I swear,” the demon at his feet whimpered as he scrambled backwards away from the shadows that darted out at him from Aziraphale’s body, striking like vipers. “I don’t know anything!”

The angel stepped forward, blue eyes flashing in the darkness. “If you don’t know anything,” he began, voice sharp and cold as ice, “why are you running away?” 

The demon’s eyes grew wide as Aziraphale’s sword came into view. It glowed a bright, angry orange, displaying all the emotions the angel no longer allowed himself to feel. The heat of it was strong, warming the side of his face from here, but Aziraphale knew that wouldn’t matter to the creature cowering before him. Demons were born of fire. They thrived in it. No, it wouldn’t be the flames from his blade that would cause this creature’s demise, but the bite of the metal itself. Forged from stardust and blessed by a multitude of angels - there was no way a demon could survive it.

“Please,” the demon cried, though there were no tears glistening in his eyes. “I don’t know where Crawly is. None of us do. We haven’t seen him since Armageddon.”

Aziraphale’s eyes flashed dangerously as the hand around his sword tightened his grip. How _dare_ he. How _dare_ this demon speak about Crowley in that way. How dare he use that name!

“You’re lying,” Aziraphale growled, the shadows around him growing more intense. Anger and frustration filled his heart as the Principality took another step forward, relishing in the way the demon below him began to tremble. 

“I _swear_,” this demon seemed keen on sticking to his story. Aziraphale frowned, his patience growing thin. “No one knows where he is.”

The angel felt his eyes burning with brightness inside his skull as he fought to hold back the tears that were always present, even after all this time. “He was discorporated,” Aziraphale pointed out, hands beginning to shake with repressed emotion, “by a demon. And you have the gall to tell me there isn’t a single being among you that knows _anything_ about that?”

The demon cowering before him hesitated, and that was all Aziraphale needed. He sneered down at the creature, heart filling with anger. Why did these demons refuse to cooperate with him? Why did they insist on keeping Crowley’s whereabouts from him? How much longer did he have to fight before they finally did the right thing, for once in their lives?

“If you don’t know anything,” Aziraphale hissed through gritted teeth, the sword rising a few inches into the air. “Then you are of no use to me.”

Before the creature could utter another word, Aziraphale brought the blade down upon him. The ghost of a scream filled the air around them as the sword bit into demonic flesh and the body slumped forward on the trash laden sidewalk, devoid of any life it previously contained. It was just a shell now. A vessel that once contained the withered soul of a demon.

Aziraphale did not break his gaze. With a twitch of his finger, a spark of flame leapt from his sword and landed on the body, igniting it quicker than a lightning strike upon the dry grassy plains. The angel stood resolute, sword lowered in front of him, hilt in hand, blade tip resting against the concrete, until the last evidence was burned away, ashes scattered by the wind.

Only then did Aziraphale allow himself to breathe. Only then did he allow a single tear to trickle down his cheek before it was brushed angrily away.

“Crowley, my dear,” the angel whispered into the night sky as he slowly turned around and began to make his way back to the bookshop. “Please, forgive me. I don’t know what else to do.”

He spoke to his dear friend nearly every day. Even on days when Aziraphale did not lend words to his thoughts, they were always there. Swirling around in the back of his mind and within his shriveled up heart. And just like every day before then, Crowley did not respond. He never responded, no matter how much the angel prayed he would.

Aziraphale was really and truly alone.

Deep down, he feared he always would be.

* * *

“Aziraphale!” Gabriel called out as he miracled himself into the bookshop. “Great news.” For once, the enthusiasm in his voice matched that in his chest. He really did come bearing great news. The Principality had gone above and beyond in his work lately, and Heaven had decided to reward him for his efforts.

“Aziraphale?” the Archangel tried again as he looked around the room for any sign of the other angel. How strange. This was Aziraphale’s permanent residence, was it not? He paused, trying to remember the last time he had been here. It had only been a handful of years, right? Or had it been longer? Surely the Principality hadn’t gone and relocated himself, had he? 

Gabriel moved silently around the shop, trying not to breathe in the dust-laden air around him. The shop had been cluttered before, but _this_ was a bit much. There were papers _everywhere_. And not just the ones found in books, although Gabriel could see plenty of those lying around. Aziraphale had also begun collecting stacks upon stacks of newspapers. They were littered in bundles around the shop, creating a maze of crinkling paper that the Archangel could barely pass through. 

And the photographs. Honestly, what use did Aziraphale even have for them? Gabriel paused in front of an old desk and looked down at the assortment of cardstock. He picked one of the pieces up from the middle of the pile and turned it over in his hands. This particular piece featured a young man dressed in the most ridiculous outfit, even for a human. He wore a black robe with a golden scarf draped around his shoulders. On top of his head was a wide brimmed black hat, squared in shape instead of rounded, with a similar colored golden tassel hanging from the side.

“Graduation,” Gabriel murmured to himself as he read the title, then placed it back down to examine some of the others. There were dozens of similar announcements. Unreturned wedding RSVPs, funeral announcements, baby showers. Aziraphale had kept every one, likely depositing them on this desk in the corner of his bookshop the moment he received them and promptly forgetting about them. Some of the cards, Gabriel noticed, were still in their original envelope. Untouched and unopened.

“Sentimental fool,” the Archangel scoffed as he looked around the shop once more. The state of things obviously indicated that Aziraphale had been gone for a long time. Gabriel tried to sort through his memory. The last time he had checked in on the Principality, Aziraphale had been somewhere in South America. That had been months ago. He would have expected the angel to be back by now, but perhaps Aziraphale had chosen to stay across the ocean for a while.

No matter. Gabriel would just come back some other time. It wasn’t as if he was in any rush to speak to the Principality. Aziraphale was doing a splendid job on Earth, fighting to keep the souls of humanity safe from external forces that might corrupt them. He deserved some kind of recognition, and Gabriel would see to it that Aziraphale was rewarded eventually. No use in wasting resources to track the angel down.

Aziraphale would return to the bookshop in time, Gabriel was sure of it. No matter how long he was gone, the angel always came back. 

The next time he did, Gabriel would be waiting for him.

* * *

Aziraphale was on his way back to the bookshop when he sensed it. The pungent stench seemed to appear out of nowhere. Shock and grief filled his entire core, causing the angel to stop dead in his tracks as his eyes immediately overflowed with tears.

“Hey!” an irritated voice shouted from behind him as someone knocked roughly into Aziraphale’s left shoulder. “Watch it, bud!”

The angel barely registered the fact that these humans could see him. By all accounts, they shouldn’t be able to, not if the miracle he used to hide himself was still in place. For the briefest moment, Aziraphale thought about restoring it, but the pain in his heart was overwhelming. It took all of his strength to keep from collapsing on his knees in the street.

All of a sudden, he was back in that Mayfair flat. He was standing in the doorway, calling out Crowley’s name, trying to convince his rapidly beating heart that his friend was alright. Trying to convince himself that there had to be a reason Crowley wasn’t responding.

He was looking down at his demon’s bloodied corpse, a sob caught in his throat, making it impossible to breathe. He was kneeling down, gathering Crowley into his arms, his heart shattering itself into a million pieces, because now he _knew. _Aziraphale knew it wasn’t a simple case of a discorporation. He knew he wouldn’t return to his bookshop and wait a few weeks for Crowley to show back up.

Crowley was gone. And Aziraphale was never going to see him again.

_No!_ The angel forced his emotions back into the corner of his heart where they belonged. He ripped himself away from his memories and focused in on the scent around him. Pulling a miracle tightly around him so that no one would see what happened next, Aziraphale’s white wings burst forth as he took to the sky, heading north over the city and into the surrounding countryside.

This was it. This was the trail of the demon he’d been looking for. The demon that had taken his best friend away from him. Hope surged within the angel as he soared high above the ground below, following the path that would lead him to his target - the one demon he’d been searching for all this time. 

Was this really it? Would today finally be the day Aziraphale found what he was looking for? Would identifying this demon finally allow him to bring Crowley back home?

For the second time that day, Aziraphale’s heart was assaulted with emotion. This time, as he flew over the countryside following the demon’s trail, he was overcome with a wave of love so powerful, it nearly knocked him from the sky. Aziraphale sucked in a rapid breath, forcing his heart to quell in its shaking as he gently lowered himself down to the ground in front of a familiar large brick building.

Tadfield Manor? What in the world was he doing here? Why had the trail he’d been following led to this, of all places?

Aziraphale didn’t understand. The last time he’d been here with Crowley, this place had been used as an office training facility. It had been teeming with activity back then - coworkers divided up into different teams, shooting each other with paintball guns. Now, the structure lay abandoned. It looked as if it had been _years_ since anyone had stepped foot in this place.

Of its own accord, Aziraphale’s hand came to rest on his shoulder where he could still feel the ghost of the projectile that had hit him. He smiled, tears in his eyes as he remembered the sly grin on Crowley’s face as he miracled the paint off both of them. Warmth spread through Aziraphale’s chest, just as it had on that day all those years ago. 

_Did you care for me, even then?_ Aziraphale wanted to ask. _Am I more than just a friend to you? Do I, perhaps, dare to hope that you love me as I love you?_

The tears flooded over as Aziraphale lowered his arm quickly, banishing the memory. He would stain his coat a thousand times over if such an action would bring Crowley back to him. Aziraphale would give up his books, his teas, even his favorite dining locations to have his friend returned unharmed. 

The demon he was looking for was gone. Aziraphale had followed the trail to its end, until it had vanished without a trace. Whoever had done this - whoever had _murdered_ Crowley had come up to Earth for a short stint. They’d walked through London for a bit and then come here.

Why _here_ of all places? There was nothing here, not anymore, and there hadn’t been for some time. Who would want to come to an abandoned training facility?

Something stirred in the back of Aziraphale’s mind as he wiped the tears from his cheeks. Crowley had brought him to this place a long time ago for a reason. Tadfield Manor hadn’t always been abandoned, just as it hadn’t always been a location for office training.

It had started out as a hospital. They’d been here looking for information on the Antichrist - on Adam.

_Records! There must have been records._

Once again, Aziraphale felt himself being pulled into his memories. He was standing in the hallway upstairs, Crowley by his side, talking to a lovely woman who had been a nun at this residence when Adam had been brought into the world.

_Oh yes. There were lots of records. We were very good at keeping records._

_Well, where are they?_

_Burned in the fire._

Crowley had been furious then, as had Aziraphale. They had come all that way on the only lead they had to stop the end of the world and the very records they needed had all been destroyed. 

Thinking back, Aziraphale could have sworn his friend had uttered something more than just a frustrated groan before they’d left the nice Nun to her own devices. It had been a name, of sorts. One that would come up again in that very same week as Crowley had run for his life. One that Aziraphale had forgotten about until this very moment.

And suddenly it all made sense. What demon would have come up to Earth and returned here to this former convent? What demon would hold a hatred so great toward Crowley that he would break into his flat and discorporate him, even despite the fact he believed Crowley was immune to Holy Water? What demon despised Crowley so much, he would risk the wrath of an angel?

Hatred flooded Aziraphale’s entire being. As he stood in the abandoned courtyard, surrounded by overgrown foliage and forgotten relics of a previous time, shadows began to spread outward from the angel’s body. The inky black tendrils crept across the ground and through the air as a sword materialized in Azriaphale’s grip. With a single breath, it burst into flames, the intensity of the heat mirroring the fire in Aziraphale’s ice blue eyes - shining brightly even under the summer’s sun.

He was going to find this demon. He was going to march right up to him and demand to know Crowley’s location. And once he had that, Aziraphale was going to destroy him.

_You’d better prepare yourself. _The words flooded Aziraphale’s entire being as he took to the sky, a writhing mass of fire and shadows. _I’m coming for you, Hastur._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who celebrate, Happy Hanukkah, Merry Christmas, and Happy Holidays to you all <3 I am very thankful to all of you following this story and I hope you all have a wonderful week.


	15. Art: Avenging Aziraphale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's an extra special little gift for you all tonight. In addition to their comic, Lei_sam created this piece of art based on how they imagined Aziraphale in this story. We are hoping to add more art as we go along, so if you have a scene you'd like to see, let us know (no promises, but we will see what we can do). Don't forget to give the artist some love! This story wouldn't be possible without them :)
> 
> You can find more of Lei_sam's work here!
> 
> https://lei-sam.tumblr.com/  
https://twitter.com/Leisan24657341


	16. Chapter 14

In all of his centuries of existence, Crowley never thought he would feel such relief at spotting a posted sign that read ‘do not lick the walls’. 

He had never been more wrong.

The moment the demon spotted that familiar lettering, he nearly burst into tears. It had taken him so long to get here, but he’d finally made it. He finally knew where he was and knew he was only a short walk away from the escalator that would lead him back up to Earth. Back up to Aziraphale.

If only he could get his hands on a body. He just needed a body, and he was home free.

Crowley glanced down at his hands as he walked, turning them over slowly in front of him. The golden glow still swirled beneath his skin, although he thought it might be fading in brilliance, even if it was just a little bit. He had a hard time telling whether the dimness was due to the light within him actually fading, or if the lighting on the walls around him was growing brighter as he walked, making his light dull by comparison.

He walked silently along the halls, pressing his feet down lightly against the stone floor. So far, he had come across no one as he’d climbed the stairs to the more familiar places of Hell. Crowley knew this wouldn’t last for long. Hell was a vast place, but there were millions of them here. Most of his memories of this place involved cramped corridors, demons walking side by side, too close to keep from brushing each others shoulders.

It wouldn’t be long before he ran into another demon. Crowley needed to come up with a plan. He needed to find a way to get his body back, quickly, and without drawing too much attention to himself.

In order to get a body and return to Earth, Crowley would have to go directly to the source. Lord Beelzebub was the only one who could grant him what he needed to return to his home.

As much as Crowley didn’t want to deal with a run in with the Prince of Hell, he had no choice. There was no other way. He would have to hope that Aziraphale had done a good enough job when he’d last been down here. If Beelzebub still thought Crowley was immune to Holy Water, if they thought there was something...ethereal about the demon, perhaps his greatest wish would be fulfilled after all.

Voices echoing from somewhere ahead of him stopped Crowley in his tracks. His heart leapt into his throat along with his stomach and the demon found himself darting around the nearest corner, pressing himself up against the wall quicker than he could blink. Amber eyes scanned the hallway around him, looking for the source of the sound or any sign that someone else was nearby. 

It wasn’t that he was afraid. He was just being practical about this. Someone had discorporated him. _Someone_ had placed seals all around Hell to keep him out. It was clear that he was not entirely welcome here. 

He’d made it all this way. It would be such a pity to run into the wrong demon and be forced to start all over. No, Crowley had to be smart about this. He would bide his time and wait until the right moment. He would come up with a plan, and no matter how painstaking it might be, Crowley would follow it to the letter. It was much better to extend his stay in Hell by a few hours rather than muck everything up by moving too fast. 

Crowley _had_ to find his way out of here. Aziraphale was counting on him. 

Glancing down at his watch out of habit, the demon saw that it was still frozen in place. He huffed, rolling his eyes and lowering his softly glowing hand once more. When he got back home, he would have to invest in a new one. Unfortunately, mechanical watches such as this weren’t like plants. He couldn’t intimidate it into behaving the way that it should.

The voices sounded again, closer this time. If he held his breath and strained his ears, Crowley could just make out the words they were saying as footsteps slowly drew nearer to his hiding place.

“I flat up told him that he was insane.” The voice was feminine in nature, although a bit gravely. It wasn’t one Crowley recognized, but that came as no surprise. He barely spent any time in Hell, no more than the absolute minimum required for his position, and as a result, Crowley really didn’t know many of the demons that called this place home. For him to recognize one of them by voice alone, it would have to be someone important. Someone like Beelzebub, or Dagon, or even Hastur.

“I told him there was no way in Heaven I was going up to Earth. Not after what happened to the last bunch of bastards who did.”

There was a snort of disbelief from another source. By the echoes of their footsteps bouncing off the walls, Crowley assumed it was just the two of them. He could probably take them in a fight if the need arose. Deep down, the demon hoped that wouldn’t be the case. The last thing he wanted was to draw any more attention to himself than strictly necessary. Grab a body and get out. That was the fundamentals of his plan.

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” the other demon gruffed, in a much lower voice. “It’s been quiet up there for decades now. There’s probably nothing to worry about anymore.”

A beat of silence. “If you’re so sure, why don’t you volunteer to nip up there for a quick temptation.” When the male demon didn’t respond, the female continued. “That’s what I thought. You’re scared, just like the rest of us.”

A low growl sounded too close for Crowley’s comfort. They were almost upon him. The demon slunk back several steps, shoving his glowing hands into his pocket and hoping the light from his face was dim enough that they wouldn’t notice as they passed by. 

“Any demon that’s not at least a bit worried about a murderous, rampaging angel on the loose deserves to be wiped from existence, in my opinion. Doesn’t hurt to be too cautious. Especially if he is still up there, waiting for us. Although, frankly, I still don’t think he is.”

For one horrible moment, Crowley’s heart stopped beating. He didn’t really have a heart, not in this form, but he was so used to possessing one, that his mind had tricked himself into thinking he did. In that moment, when the phrase ‘murderous, rampaging angel’ drifted forward to his ears, Crowley’s mind lost control and his metaphorical heart ceased to exist.

_Aziraphale._ No. It couldn’t be. Not his kind, gentle angel. The demons had to be talking about someone else. It didn’t make any sense. The other two had mentioned ‘decades’. Crowley had only been down here for a couple of weeks, at most. He didn’t need a functioning watch to tell him that. He would have _known_ if it had been decades. He would have felt it. The ache in his heart at being away from his angel would have felt so much stronger after decades of being apart.

Yes, it was true that Crowley and Aziraphale had spent more than a few dozen years apart in the past, but things were different now. Ever since Armageddon, rather, ever since the Antichrist had been brought to the Earth, they had spent nearly every day with one another. Even though he would never admit it out loud, Crowley’s heart ached to be away from his angel for long. Aziraphale had been the only constant in his life for over six-thousand years. And though Crowley had always felt a certain fondness for the blonde-haired angel, it had only grown stronger the more time they spent together.

The thought of being away from him for any long period of time made it difficult for the demon to breathe. And even though he didn’t need to, after so long on Earth, it just felt _wrong._

Aziraphale couldn’t be this angel they were referring to. Crowley’s angel wouldn’t hurt a fly. Why, when the end of the Earth had been upon them, Aziraphale had refused to kill Adam Young, not even to save the rest of humanity. The thought that Aziraphale was up there right now, slaughtering demons, was outrageous.

If not Aziraphale, than who? And why hadn’t either of them heard about a killer angel on the loose? Perhaps said angel had been located somewhere else in the world over the past several decades. It wasn’t as if Aziraphale was the only angel stationed on Earth, after all. He was just the original. There was a very good chance that some other angel was located in Asia or the Americas and Crowley and Aziraphale had both been none the wiser about it.

The footsteps were right around the corner now. Crowley slunk several steps backward, glancing down to ensure that at least his hands were hidden. He turned away, hunching up his shoulders so even the skin on his neck was hidden from view. Crowley’s eyes snapped shut, and he strained his ears backward to listen. He reached out his other senses and waited, heart still frozen in his chest as the footsteps echoing around him grew to a crescendo and then faded away into nothingness.

Right. The demon released a slow, quiet breath. The time for dawdling was over. Crowley had kept his angel waiting long enough. He was going to find Beelzebub, get his body back, and then march himself right back up to the bookshop. The front door would let him in, like it always did, even if the sign had been flipped to ‘closed’. Aziraphale would smile his beautiful smile upon seeing Crowley’s face and the two would spend the entire afternoon together.

He’d be invited to stay for drinks, and of course Crowley would accept. It was difficult to tell if Aziraphale would ask him to stay the night or not. The demon had a feeling his angel would want him to stay, but Aziraphale wasn’t the type to ask outright for what he wanted. Crowley would have to find a way to bring up the idea in conversation on his own. Maybe he would get lucky and a rainstorm would hit at precisely the right moment. There was no use in him driving home in such conditions. It would be much safer if he simply slept on Aziraphale’s couch for the night.

It was a wonderful plan, Crowley was sure of it. All he had to do was get moving again. He would be back in his angel’s presence within the hour. 

Crowley ducked around the corner the pair of demons had come from. He knew exactly where he was now. Knew exactly where he needed to go. There was only one problem. Beelzebub’s throne room was in the center of these halls. Millions of demons stood between him and his intended target. There was no way for Crowley to get to that throne room without being seen. He glanced down at his hands again. Especially not looking like this.

He paused. Perhaps he could use this to his advantage. Crowley certainly didn’t look like any normal demon right now. While some of the demons may see right through him, most of them were not clever enough to realize the truth of what he was. Crowley didn’t even fully understand, himself.

Would that work? Could he use this strange ethereal glow to convince one of the demons down here to take him where he needed to go?

It wasn’t as if he had many other options. Crowley could either try to sneak his way to Beelzebub’s throne, take ten times as long, and risk being seen by the wrong demons. Or he could take the most direct route and hope for the best.

Forcing his lungs and heart back into action, Crowley picked up speed. His amber eyes flicked around, looking for any sign of movement, any indication that he was no longer alone.

In less than three minutes, Crowley came across the next demon. This one was on the smaller side, unfamiliar to him, covered not in clothing, but a mass of black feathers.

“Hey!” Crowley shouted, causing the bird-looking creature to turn its head toward him. “Stop right there. I need to speak with you.”

The demon’s little black eyes went wide. Immediately, the creature spread its wings, revealing a second set of talons in the place where arms might be on any kind of humanoid figure. As Crowley rushed forward, the demon tried to take off, but the hallways were narrow here, the ceilings not all that high. There was nowhere for the demon to flee.

“Get your stinking hands off me!” the demon-bird screeched, his voice much deeper than it should have been, as Crowley darted forward and plucked the creature clean from the air. 

“Stop struggling,” Crowley commanded, trying to force some level of confidence into his voice. “I’ll let you go as soon as you take me to Lord Beelzebub.”

“The fuck I will!” the demon shouted in a voice that was much louder than his tiny body should have been able to produce. “I saw what happened to the last demons that helped an angel out down here. Do you really think I’m stupid enough to repeat what they did?”

Crowley paused. What was this demon talking about? The only time he knew of that an angel had stepped foot in Hell was during his trial. Aziraphale hadn’t mentioned anything about a demon helping him while he’d been down here. Had other angels made the trip down to Hell? He couldn’t see why they’d ever want to. Just as Crowley never wanted to step food in Heaven.

“What are you on about?” Crowley growled, unable to keep the question back. He should be focusing on getting to Beelzebub so he could return to Earth, but there was something hovering around the edge of his mind. Something akin to panic. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. 

The demon wriggled in his grip, turning his beak in Crowley’s direction. “Don’t play dumb with me, angel. It hasn't been _that_ long. You know what you and your kind did.”

Crowley’s heartbeat began to quicken. He could feel a tremble starting to rise in his body and violently forced it back down. This demon, for obvious reasons, thought he was an angel. The only way Crowley was going to get home to Aziraphale was to start acting like one.

“Right,” he gave the struggling demon a coy smile. “Let’s forget about what happened in the past shall we?” Crowley locked his amber eyes on the other demon’s black ones. “Let bygones be bygones, yeah?”

If the demon could have growled and bared teeth at him, Crowley was sure he would have. Instead, the birdlike creature simply glared, nodding his head slowly, never averting his gaze.

Crowley flashed another smile and released the small creature. “Lead the way then.”

And so, the demon found himself following one of his own kind down the hallway toward Beelzebub’s throne. It wasn’t that Crowley needed an escort to get there. He knew where to go, but having this demon here with him would arouse less suspicion. With a demon leading the way, they would be left alone. With a demon leading the way, no one would try and stop them. The other demons may see Crowley, they may think him an angel. They may be afraid of him. But unless one of them recognized him, he would reach his target unstopped.

They traveled down several empty hallways before coming across the next group of demons. Just as Crowley expected, upon seeing him in all his golden glory, most demons turned and fled. Crowley could smell the fear upon them. He could see it in their eyes the moment before they turned tail and fled down dark corridors.

What had happened down here? Why were all of these demons so afraid of what they believed to be an angelic presence? Half a year ago, they couldn’t wait to ascend to Earth and fight in the war to end all wars. And now, the sight of one glowing demon had them all running for the hills.

“Here you are, your holiness,” the bird demon spat as he deposited Crowley in front of a familiar set of intricate double doors. They were fashioned from a deep, dark wood. Almost black in color, with bronze handles that hung directly in front of Crowley’s chest.

He turned to bid the other demon goodbye, only to find that he was already gone. Likely darting off down one of the nearest hallways in an attempt to get as far away from whatever he feared was about to happen next.

With one final breath, Crowley steeled himself and turned back, amber eyes fixed on the door in front of him. Fists clenched at his side, the demon brought forth thoughts of Aziraphale once more. He thought of the angel’s bright smile. The way he wiggled in his seat whenever he tried the first bite of something delicious. The glimmer of warmth in his eyes whenever Crowley gave him a gift or said or did something...kind.

Warmth filled his entire body and his skin shone with golden stardust. The sight of it filled his heart 

Without further delay, the demon gritted his teeth and in a bright flash of light, he kicked down the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday everyone! We are now officially halfway through this story (wow, has time flown by!). What do you all think so far? If you've got the time, I'd love to hear some feedback!
> 
> For those of you who have read the comic, I think you all know what is coming up on Tuesday :) Stay tuned for some more BAMF Aziraphale scenes!


	17. Chapter 15

Footsteps echoed off the polished marble floor as Aziraphale made his way across the lobby. His eyes drifted to the surface beneath him, watching as his reflection danced across the smooth material. Shadows spilled from his skin, swirling in the air around him, crackling like bolts of lightning as Aziraphale clutched the flaming sword tightly in his hand.

It was alight, shining with vibrant orange fire, heat radiating from the blade hotter than Aziraphale had ever felt it before. Fury rose within the angel as he remembered the last time he’d set foot in this place. The silent indifference that greeted him now was reminiscent of the way it had been back then. He clutched the weapon even tighter in his hand, blade growing ever hotter. 

The angel stopped in the middle of the lobby, shining blue eyes fixed on the floor at his feet and the reflection of the escalator drifting downward toward his final destination.

Aziraphale didn’t need to step forward to know that the door was sealed shut to him. It had been locked before when he’d simply been an angel desperately searching for his best friend. Things were different now. If the demons let him into Hell now, they deserved everything that was coming their way. 

“This is your last chance,” he murmured, knowing they could hear him. Aziraphale knew they felt his presence the second he walked through those revolving glass doors. “Either you bring Crowley to me, or I am coming down to get him.”

Just as he expected, there was no answer. Still, Aziraphale paused, giving them one final chance. “I just want him back. You give him back to me, I leave you alone. So long as he stays by my side, I won’t ever raise a blade against you again.”

They had decided to ignore him, to pretend they couldn’t hear - pretend that they didn’t understand. Aziraphale inhaled deeply through his nose and fixed his eyes on the space at his feet where the reflection of the escalator began. In one fluid motion, his wings were out, fluttering steadily behind him. A great cloud of white that only served to highlight the darkness radiating from his entire body.

With one loud roar, the angel swung the sword downward. He put all his might into the blow, flapping his wings in a great gust of wind as he drove the blade toward the center of the earth. It cut through marble like a heated knife to butter, releasing an ear shattering screech, reminding him of nails on a chalkboard.

Reaching down, Aziraphale plunged his free hand into the still smoldering gash in the floor. To his surprise, he felt no heat at all. No pain as he gripped the molten stone and pulled up, wrenching a large chunk of the floor away, tossing it to the side like it was made from styrofoam. 

Below the gaping hole in the floor sat a long spiral staircase, made entirely from stone. The stench of sulfur immediately assaulted his nostrils as Aziraphale breathed in again, slowly rising to his feet. Holding out the sword in front of him, Aziraphale began his descent. He marched down the stairs, taking them one at a time. The angel was in no hurry. He’d waited this long, what was a few more moments to him?

This was it. This was Aziraphale’s last attempt to bring Crowley back. If this didn’t work, he was out of options. If Aziraphale couldn’t find Crowley after searching through the entirety of Hell, there was no hope left. 

He tried not to dwell on that thought. There was no point in letting his mind wander too far into thoughts of despair. Not when he had a job to do.

If it was even possible, Aziraphale’s footsteps echoed even louder as he slowly wound his way down the spiral stone steps, wings extended far out on either side. He could have flown down the steps. Doing so would have been more efficient. It would have gotten him to his destination much quicker, but Aziraphale chose to take his time. He relished the way the sound reverberated across the walls, growing louder and louder as he grew closer to the wide set of double doors that stood at the end of his path. 

The sword burned at his side, filling the angel’s heart with a radiating heat. It was a different sort of feeling than the one he usually associated with thoughts of Crowley. Before this whole adventure began, Aziraphale’s heart used to light up whenever he thought of the demon. And when Crowley was in his presence? Well, nothing could ever compare to that feeling of utter peace and warmth and contentment. That feeling of _ home_.

This feeling was harsh. It burned angrily within him, stoking his resolve and urging him onward. Aziraphale had no thoughts of turning back. Whatever happened here today, he was ready for it.

Only when Aziraphale reached the bottom of the staircase, did he stop in his advance. The angel stared up at the wide double doors, towering over him. They were made entirely of stone, carved from the same grimy, grey substance that made up the walls and the stairs rising up behind him. At one point in time, Aziraphale could imagine that the doors contained intricate designs, painstakingly formed from the solid stone. Now, after six millennia, there was nothing recognizable about them. Whatever carvings had existed once were worn away now, crumbling to dust like the rest of the material around him.

Aziraphale took another breath he did not need, blue eyes flashing in the darkness. He raised the sword closer to his face, banishing all shadows except the ones he created for himself from his own heart. One single solitary door stood between him and the end of this nightmare he’d been forced into. One last barrier to cut down.

It would be too easy.

Faster than should have been possible, Aziraphale’s arms flashed outward. The blazing blade in his hand struck the stone door and sank into it, catching for only a moment before the angel was dragging it through the door, carving himself a pathway inside. If the sound created upstairs was cringe-worthy, the sound of holy blade against hellish stone was a hundred times worse. Sparks flew in all directions, bouncing off the floor and the walls, singeing his coat where they landed on him. The coat didn’t dare catch fire, it knew better, but it did smolder for a few moments, the smoke from the fabric mingling with the shadows dancing off Aziraphale’s corporation.

Abruptly, the screeching ended as Aziraphale pulled the sword back, watching with grim satisfaction as a section of the door crumbled to pieces before him. Without a second thought, the angel stepped through the still smoldering wreckage, his glowing ice blue eyes glancing around for any sign of movement.

No one was there to greet him as he entered the doors of Hell. Aziraphale hadn’t expected there to be. Any demon that would face him now was asking to be annihilated. 

Except, Aziraphale wasn’t here to annihilate just any demon. He had one specific demon in mind. One specific demon whose scent he was now extracting from the air around him. Down here, surrounded by so many other demons, the task was much more difficult, but Aziraphale was nothing, if not determined. 

He took off down the nearest hallway, bypassing the throne room completely as he zeroed in on the unpleasant feeling bubbling up inside of his stomach. For the first time in a long time, Aziraphale allowed himself to think back on that fateful day - the day that Crowley was taken away from him. He let the disgust and contempt fill him, leading him along through the twists and turning halls of Hell. Leading him to his target.

It wasn’t long before the angel came across his first demon. Two of them lingered in the hall in front of him, tossing some sort of crumpled paper back and forth between them. They looked up the moment the glow from Aziraphale’s sword entered their peripherals.

Both demons turned toward him at the same time, their eyes blowing wide with fear as they recognized him. Aziraphale did not know either one of them personally. There were very few demons he had coma cross in his lifetime that were still around now. Even though he didn’t know them, it was obvious that word had spread about him. These demons knew exactly who he was and what he was capable of.

“Fuck,” one of them hissed before they both attempted to dart away. They were fast, but Aziraphale was faster. In the time it took for his corporation’s heart to beat, he had closed the distance between them, reaching out not with his hands, but with his voice, to stop them.

“Wait!”

The divine power that radiated out from him stopped both demons in their tracks. Slowly, their fear filling the space between them, the creatures turned to face him, lips curling to reveal rows of sharpened teeth.

Aziraphale lifted the sword up in front of his face, causing both demons to shrink back away from the burdensome heat. “I am looking for Duke Hastur. Take me to him and I will let you live in peace.”

For a moment, the demons hesitated. Aziraphale watched as the pair shared a glance, the meaning hidden from Aziraphale. Then, to his surprise, one of them turned back to him and smiled. It was still filled with sharp white teeth, but the fear that had been present from the moment they saw him was gone. 

“You want Hassstur?” one of them hissed, a thin black tongue darting out of their mouth. “We would be happy to take you to him.”

And, so, Aziraphale followed. Part of him wondered why these demons were suddenly so willing to help him after mentioning Hastur’s name. Did they despise the Duke like Aziraphale did? Had he mistreated them in the past? The angel wanted to ask, wanted to stop them in the middle of the hallway and understand why they would voluntarily choose to lead an armed angel down into the very depths of Hell. It was very possible that Aziraphale was walking directly into a trap. Should he stop them and turn back? Follow Hastur’s trail on his own? Forget about his desire for revenge and go straight to Beelzebub themselves?

As they walked, Aziraphale felt the unpleasantness in his stomach growing stronger. He knew that, whatever these demons were thinking, leading Aziraphale into an ambush was not on their agenda. He could sense Hastur’s fowl presence getting closer with each step. Every move Aziraphale made brought him closer to the being that had taken away his best friend, leaving him alone all this time. 

Hastur was going to regret the day he ever set foot in Crowley’s flat. He was going to wish he’d never thought to take Crowley from Aziraphale and the angel would stop at nothing to make sure his demon was never taken from him again. After today, Crowley and Aziraphale would be by each other’s side until the end of the world really came.

“He’s down there,” one of the demons murmured as they came to a stop. Aziraphale watched as the creature lifted one clawed hand and pointed down a central hallway a bit wider than the others had been. The hall was lined with doors, all identical, all leading to locations in Hell Aziraphale did not recognize. The last time he’d been here, he had not been permitted to stray far. Aziraphale, disguised as Crowley, had been held prisoner near the throne room, kept in a windowless cell until the time for his trial had arrived.

He hadn’t been privy to exploring all of Hell’s many twists and turns back then, but Aziraphale found that he did not need to now. This close, he could tell exactly where Hastur was hiding. He could practically see the demon’s presence shimmering on the other side of the door he was trapped behind. 

“I suppose I should say thank you,” the angel began, turning toward the two beings that had lead him here. Aziraphale was sure that had he not run into them, he would have eventually made his way here, but this had turned out rather nicely. These demons had not only found him a direct route, they had taken him in such a way that avoided any contact with other demons. Aziraphale was confident in his swordsmanship abilities, but even he would have difficulty taking on the entirety of Hell at once, should they choose to attack.

Even as he said the words, the angel felt a stab of pain in his heart. Memories from what felt like a previous life washed over him and he was instantly transported back to a grimy, smelly dungeon similar to the place he found himself in now. Crowley was standing before him, amber eyes hidden behind a pair of dark glasses after having just rescued Aziraphale from certain discorporation.

_ You were always there for me, my dear, _ Aziraphale found himself thinking as the real demons before him hissed in disgust and slunk away, clearly not in favor of being seen anywhere near the angel that had marched his way into Hell. He took a deep breath and turned his attention down the long hallway, focusing on the direction Hastur’s presence was emanating from. _ You saved my life on so many occasions. I wasn’t quick enough to save you then. Let me be enough to save you now. _

“I miss you,” Aziraphale breathed into the stale, musty air. A single tear rolled down his cheek and the angel hastily wiped it away. Then, without any further hesitation, Aziraphale strode down the hallway, only stopping once the feeling in his stomach had grown to be unbearable. When the pain in his heart threatened to disintegrate it completely.

Without a second thought, Aziraphale kicked open the door, splintering the wood where it was once connected to hinges and sending it clattering to the floor. Rage flowing over from him, the angel stepped into the room, taking in everything around him at once. It was a small room, filled with broken furniture and dust and peeling wallpaper that never would have been considered nice, not even in its prime. 

And there, sitting against the back wall, looking up at Aziraphale with wide black eyes, was Hastur.

“Where is he?” Aziraphale demanded, leaving space between each of his words to emphasize his point and ensure the demon understood exactly what he was saying. 

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Hastur sneered back, his lip curling in disgust. Aziraphale lunged forward, the suddenness of his action causing Hastur to scramble backward until the angel had him backed up into the corner with nowhere else to run.

“Where is Crowley?” Aziraphale asked again, placing the tip of his flaming sword up against the demon’s throat. “What have you done to him?”

“I haven’t done anything,” Hastur spat at Aziraphale’s shoes. “The bastard destroyed Ligur and then had the _ audacity _ to think he could walk away with no consequences? I was only giving him a fraction of the punishment he deserves.”

“You _ discorporated _ him!” Aziraphale shouted, fighting to keep his anger under control. With each new wave, the flame on his sword seemed to burn brighter and brighter, filling the room with almost unbearable heat. “And when he ended up down here, you were ready for him. Now tell me - where is he? What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Hastur growled back. “The flash bastard never showed up. Oh,” the demon chuckled darkly, “I had so many plans to torture him, but after I bashed his pretty little head in, he fucking disappeared. I haven’t laid eyes on him since that day in his flat.”

“_ Lies _!” Aziraphale hissed, pressing the blade up against Hastur’s throat. When the demon did not admit the truth in Aziraphale’s accusation, when he did not open his mouth to offer up any additional information, the angel felt another piece of his soul break off inside of his chest. He had been so sure this would work.

“You thought death by Holy Water was a punishment?” Aziraphale growled, deep and low in his throat as his ice blue eyes remained locked with Hastur’s coal black ones. He relished the hint of fear that flickered to life inside of them. “You don’t know the meaning of the word.”

He leaned in so his nose was mere inches from Hastur’s face. Close enough that the demon could feel the righteous fury radiating off his entire body.

“You should have never taken my demon from me.”

And then, before Hastur could utter a single syllable more, Aziraphale raised his blade and plunged it directly into the demon’s stomach. 

Hastur screamed. He screamed with every breath that had ever entered his lungs. The sound echoed around them both as the sword that was currently cutting through his stomach burned white hot, spreading fire through the rest of his form. Aziraphale held on tightly, pushing all of the anger and pain and loneliness from inside him, using it to fuel his strike, watching with detached emptiness as it consumed the creature before him, burning away every molecule of demonic presence.

When it was all over and done, nothing remained of the being that was once called Hastur. The Duke was completely destroyed, a scorch mark burned against the crumbling wall that was already fading from sight. The screams still echoed around Aziraphale and for one painstaking moment, he thought all of Hell might have heard them both. But after a few moments, no one came, and Aziraphale released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

The angel hadn’t known what to expect after he’d accomplished his mission. He’d come down here with two goals in mind. Find Crowley and make Hastur pay. Now that one of them was complete, Aziraphale thought he would feel better. He thought he would feel relieved, but the angel only felt a heavy emptiness settle inside of him, filling him with a deep chill he feared he would never be rid of.

What was the point of any of this, if at the end of the day, Crowley wasn’t here with him?

Without warning, Aziraphale’s knees gave out underneath him and he slumped to the floor, sword clattering against the crumbling wall beside him. His breaths came in short labors, as if he were going through the motions of breathing, but not truly allowing the air to do its job.

This was the end. It was all over. If _ Hastur _ wouldn’t tell Aziraphale where his beloved demon was, then who could? Hastur had confessed to the discorporation. He’d admitted Crowley should have been here after his body had died on Earth, but no demon had seen hide nor hair of him in all this time.

“Crowley...” Aziraphale moaned, leaning forward to rest his forehead against the crumbling wall. The surface felt cool to the touch, and yet so much warmer than this feeling currently welling up inside him. Tears flooded his eyes and Aziraphale did not fight them back. He was tired of fighting. Tired of this overwhelming loneliness that had continued to hover about him for so long, sinking its claws into him so slowly he hadn’t taken the time to notice until now that his entire heart had been eclipsed by it.

This was the end. He was never going to see Crowley again.

“No. Nonono…” the angel sobbed, lifting a hand and ramming his fist into the wall. Instead of the painful resistance he so desperately wanted to feel in that moment, the wall shattered underneath the impact, sending dust and dirt up into the air and down into his lungs. The angel willed his body not to be affected. 

“Crowley, please,” Aziraphale whispered into the nothingness around him as he slowly clawed his way up the wall and back onto his feet. Glancing down at his flameless sword, Azriaphale felt another sharp pain in his chest as he conjured memories of the being he loved more than anyone else in all of creation. Warm amber eyes, a sly smile, flaming red hair and a heart with more kindness in it than many humans had. 

“Crowley, please, you can’t be gone,” the angel pleaded. To his friend, or to Heaven, or to the Almighty herself, he did not know. “Please, there has to be something I can do. Tell me what to do.”

Crowley did not respond. He hadn’t responded to Aziraphale’s wishes in a long time. All the same, the angel felt a sudden wave of stillness wash over him as his grief ebbed for a long enough moment that his mind could think again. There was still one more thing he could do. One more being he could talk to. One more individual who might know where Crowley was.

And so, several minutes later, Aziraphale found himself standing outside the door to Beelzebub’s throne room. He shivered with the memory of this place, remembering how his stomach churned at the sight of Michael and the Holy Water. Imagining how close his Crowley had come to vanishing from existence forever.

Anger welled up inside him again and the sword in his grip sparked to life. This time, Aziraphale did not use it to break down the door. He didn’t need a holy weapon to remove this barrier. He would do it himself.

“Heavenzzz!” Aziraphale heard Beelzebub shout as the angel placed one well-aimed kick at the wooden barrier and it was blasted from its hinges, falling to the floor with a loud clatter. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Aziraphale strode into the room, facing down each of the demons currently present. Beelzebub was the only one he recognized, not that the angel expected to recognize many of them. Dagon was the only demon left that Aziraphale knew, and it appeared they were off attending to other duties at the moment.

No matter. Beelzebub was the one Aziraphale was here to see.

“Where is Crowley?” the angel demanded, growing quite tired of this game. “Hastur confessed to his discorporation, which means he should have ended up here. I want him back and I will not leave until you give him to me.”

Beelzebub stared at Aziraphale blankly for a moment, while the other demons in the room shifted nervously back and forth where they stood. There were seven of them total. Eight if Aziraphale counted Beelzebub. Not the best of odds, but not impossible either. If it all came down to a fight, the angel would stand a decent chance.

“Izzz that what thizzz izz about?” Beelzebub asked in an almost amused tone. “You’ve been destroying hundreds of my demonzzz all to get your boyfriend back?”

Aziraphale snarled, advancing a few steps as he brought his celestial blade forward. “Do not speak about him that way!” The angel tried his very best to keep his hands from trembling. “If this is some kind of game to you, it is one that I refuse to play.”

In a surprise turn of events, Beelzebub lifted their hands in surrender. “Aziraphale,” they said calmly, gazing into the angel’s vibrant blue eyes. “Crowley izzzn’t here. After what happened at Armageddon, I dezzzided it waz bezzzt for everyone if he remained on Earth permanently. I had sealzzz put in plazze to prevent him from ever returning. I swear to you, he izzn’t here.

“You’re lying,” Aziraphale growled, blue light flooding the room as his eyes flashed dangerously. “That’s what demons do. They lie.” The other demons in the room snarled in fear, but Beelzebub met the angel’s gaze and did not waver. 

“I am not,” they responded evenly. “Above all elzzze, I want you gone, angel. Bazzed on what you are saying, the quickezzzt way to do that would be to give Crowley to you and let you two mutantzzz be on your merry way.”

Lord Beelzebub paused, a look of complete seriousness on their face. For the briefest of moments, the demon prince standing before Aziraphale brought forth another wave of memories to the angel’s mind. Memories he had not thought of in a very long time.

_ Would I lie to you? _

_ Obviously. You’re a demon. That’s what you do. _

_ I’m not lying, Aziraphale. Not about this. Not about anything. Not to you. _

Aziraphale did not know what possessed him to believe Beelzebub, but he did. Something about the words they had said, the way they would not cower before Aziraphale. The way they spoke with precision and reason.

If Hell had Crowley, they would have given him back by now. If Crowley was here, it would be in all of their best interests to have him returned to Aziraphale. The only reason for Beelzebub not to bring Crowley here now was if his best friend was not here. Crowley had been discorporated, but his essence had never made it back to Hell. He wasn’t here.

“He izzzn’t here,” Beelzebub reiterated, their gaze still never leaving the angel’s face. “If he waz, I would have returned him to Earth agezzz ago.” In that moment, Aziraphale knew the demon prince was telling the truth. Crowley wasn’t here.

He was going to break down. Aziraphale was going to lose it. He was going to crumble to dust or drown in his own tears or fade away into nothing. How could he hope to do anything else? How could he hope to _ be _ anything without Crowley in his life?

Aziraphale needed to get out of here. He needed to get back to Earth and his bookshop and to a time and place where things made sense again. He needed to be surrounded by luscious green foliage, standing on top of a garden wall as the first showers of rain graced the Earth. He needed to be crouched among the animals as the rocky waves tossed him about. He needed to be walking amidst the dust and the dirt and the scorching sun and the blistering cold and all places where an angel and a demon had once trod.

He needed to be wherever Crowley was.

Without another word, the angel spun around, praying the others couldn’t see how he was dying inside. Not that it mattered. Not that anything mattered. Not anymore.

The last thing Aziraphale heard before the door closed behind him was Lord Beelzebub calling for one of their subordinates, demanding that the two demons Aziraphale had coerced into helping him earlier be tracked down. Deep within him, a part of the angel reasoned he should stop. He should turn around and help those poor creatures that had shown him the way. That had helped him finally find answers. They didn’t deserve whatever terrible punishment their prince had in store for them, but the angel did nothing. He found that he simply didn’t care anymore. 

Aziraphale had stopped caring a long time ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof. So sorry guys. I know this chapter was rough. I promise, Friday's will end on a not so low note. 
> 
> I hope you all are enjoying this story so far. As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated. Hearing from you all makes my day, so please don't be shy :)
> 
> I'm really excited for the chapters we have coming up, so stay tuned for more later this week!


	18. Chapter 16

Without further delay, Crowley gritted his teeth and in a bright flash of light, he kicked down the door.

The solid wood structure broke free from the frame much easier than it should have, causing Crowley to almost topple over onto his face when his foot was met with far less resistance than he had been expecting. From the looks of things, this was not the first time this door had experienced an assault of such magnitude. The wood was splintered near the corners where it had once been fastened to metal hinges - hinges that were currently lying broken in half on the floor where they had landed.

This room was just as Crowley remembered it. Cold. Dark. A bit musty, and totally lacking in decor. Honestly, a bathtub? What kind of decoration was that? Who in their right mind had thought that an adequate choice when there were so many other things missing from this room? Like a couch, for one. And maybe a television. Or at least a potted plant or two to add a bit of freshness to this dingy place.

“Heavenzzzz!”

Crowley snapped to attention upon hearing that familiar voice. His amber eyes flickered over to the solitary chair where a small framed, but very intense demon currently sat on a grimy, tarnished throne, buried behind a large cherry wood desk and stacks of paperwork that were currently half falling to the floor after the intensity of Crowley’s entrance.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Beelzebub shouted, rising immediately to their feet, hands slamming up against the desk, sending even more of the papers fluttering to the floor.

Out of the corner of his eye, Crowley could see the outline of another demon. A quick glance revealed slimy, silvery skin and a tall willowy frame. Dagon was here too, but otherwise, they were alone.

Good. The smaller the audience, the better. He needed to get a body and get out. Honestly, it didn’t even matter what kind of body it was. Crowley could always alter it later with a few miracles. He would take whatever they would give him and then get the fuck out of this nightmare.

“Beelzebub!” the demon greeted them with a wide smile on his face, strolling into the wide room like he owned the place, hands shoved deep into his pockets, swaggering with his steps a bit more than usual. Crowley had no way to know for sure, but he suspected based off both demons’ slack-jaw expressions that his face was still glowing with a brilliant golden light. Either that, or they were really shocked to see him back down in their neck of the woods.

Was this going to be a permanent thing? Crowley still had no idea where this light had even come from. Not that he was complaining. No, he was definitely not complaining, not in the slightest. At this point, it had probably saved his life on multiple occasions. And it didn’t hurt. In fact, unless he was standing in total darkness, Crowley barely noticed the glow at all.

All things considered, if this was the price to pay to return to Aziraphale, Crowley would gladly walk around with some sort of ethereal glow for the rest of his existence. As long as it meant he could see his angel again. As long as he could see his angel and finally live in peace. Just the two of them. For the rest of forever. 

Under his breath, the demon groaned.  _ Aziraphale. _ That bastard was never going to let him live this down. Crowley may be able to hide his new appearance from prying human eyes, but his angel would notice it in an instant. Aziraphale would probably prattle on for  _ days _ about how he’d always known that Crowley was  _ nice,  _ and  _ good _ , and a whole assortment of other four-letter words the demon detested.

How utterly embarrassing.

“So good to see you both,” the demon continued, smile still plastered to his face, the half-truth slipping easily through his lips. He wasn’t exactly happy to see either one of them. But the fact that he was here and not still trapped with  _ Belial _ was enough to make him cry tears of joy. If he didn’t have a reputation to maintain, of course.

To his surprise, Beelzebub shoved the chair behind them outward with so much force that it, too, went clattering to the ground. Before Crowley could comprehend what was going on, the Prince of Hell had circled around their desk and stalked up to Crowley, hand flashing toward him. In an instant, their small hand was wrapped around his necktie and Crowley felt a sharp tug, bringing his face almost level with his former superior.

“How are you here?” Beelzebub asked darkly. “Where have you been? Do you know the utter dizzazzzter you’ve put uzzz through over the lazzt century?”

The golden light in Crowley’s body flashed briefly and Beelzebub released their hold on him, stepping back more so in shock than in pain. Once they had recovered, Beelzebub locked their gaze on Crowley as he delivered his reply.

“Me?” He couldn’t believe the other demon’s audacity. “You lot are the ones who trapped me down there!” A huff escaped his lips as Crowley freed his hands and crossed them over his chest, realizing for the first time that he’d forgotten to put on his sunglasses. Without another word, he reached up to his jacket pocket and fished them out, securing them on his face before he turned his attention back to the demon standing before him.

“Trap you?” This time, it was Dagon who addressed him, stepping up to be closer to Beelzebub but remaining what they thought was a safe distance away. “You shouldn’t even  _ be _ here. We shut the door to Hell on you ages ago.”

Crowley snorted and rolled his eyes. Obviously, they hadn’t done a very good job of it, or he’d still be up on Earth. “Must not have locked them properly, then,” he scoffed. “Or maybe my demonic essence didn’t get the memo.”

What were these two talking about? They’d welcomed him into Hell less than a year ago when they’d tried to bathe him in a tub of Holy Water. Rather, they’d welcomed a being they thought was him, but technicalities such as those didn’t matter. 

“How did you get here?” Beelzebub asked again, just as forcefully, although they kept their distance, grey-blue eyes wide and calculating. “Thozze sealzzz should have kept you out of our hair for the rezzt of eternity.”

It took all of Crowley’s restraint not to throw himself at the pair of them and beat them to a pulp. “You’re the ones who carved those seals!?” Fury welled up inside him. Crowley had been trapped in that nightmare, wandering for days, finding himself mere inches away from total annihilation. If any of them deserved to be upset about this entire situation, it was  _ him _ .

“Do you have any idea what a fucking nightmare I’ve been through these past few weeks?” Crowley demanded, noticing how the light within his hands began to swirl beneath his skin like tiny grains of sand blown about in the wind. A similar phenomenon must have been occurring with the skin on his face, because the calculating expressions on both Dagon and Beelzebub’s faces slowly morphed into looks of incredulity and mistrust.

“I was locked down in the deepest pits of Hell by those blasted seals!” the demon shouted, momentarily forgetting his main purpose for being here in front of them. He was supposed to be getting his hand on a body to return to Earth. Not arguing with the one being who could give him what he wanted. “With a fucking soul-sucking demon destroyer! And you want to blame me for getting in  _ your  _ way?”

This was getting out of hand. Crowley needed to get in control of the situation  _ now _ , before Beelzebub or Dagon had the desire to do it for him.

“I wandered around those hallways for days. I spent hours running for my life and just barely made it out with my soul still intact!” He paused, taking in a deep breath to steady his nerves. “I was chased by a two horned, red eyed monster. I watched it destroy a demon in front of my very eyes. And then when it cornered me, I somehow chased it away with an explosion of this radiant energy that is now coursing through my entire bloody body.”

Silence hung around them for a moment as Crowley’s word continued to echo around them. He took a moment to let them sink in, waiting to see what his former bosses would do. 

“Impozzible…” Beelzebub hissed, eyes wide. 

That was it. Crowley had dealt with just about enough of this. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them, drawing his lips upward into a menacing snarl as amber eyes bored down into blue-grey ones. At this point in time, Dagon had been completely forgotten. It was Beelzebub who would be the one to file the paperwork. Beelzebub who would ultimately return him to Earth. Any other demon was of little to no consequence to him.

“Not impossible!” Crowley hissed right back, his nose mere inches away from theirs. “Very, very real. You said it yourself, didn’t you? I’ve gone native. I am a demon, immune to holy water and filled with radiant energy. A demon that would very much like to be returned to his home.” Crowley paused to let the words sink in. “Now, are you planning on assisting me with that? Or am I going to have to smite you too?”

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Beelzebub nodded their head. With a quick snap of a finger, a clipboard and pen appeared in thin air, hovering to the side of them both. The Prince of Hell took the pen first, quickly filling out a few sections before signing their name on the bottom line. The parchment smoldered for a moment, smoke rising in the air in thin tendrils, filling the entire room with the stench of burnt toast and rotten eggs.

Crowley took the pen next, holding back a smirk at Beelzebub’s obvious aversion to touching his body. He didn’t blame them. If he’d been faces with such a demon - one he believed could do the things that Crowley claimed - he would have run for the hills.

With one final flourish of his wrist, the deed was signed. Crowley watched with bated breath as the paper glowed bright red for a moment before fading into nothingness, likely transporting itself into the depths of some long-forgotten filing cabinet.

There was a rustle of wind, a swirl of fog and smoke that seemed to come out of nowhere, filling the room and then all rushing toward Crowley at the same moment. He braced himself for the impact, barely remembering how this had gone the last time. Crowley had been proud of how long he’d been able to hold onto his corporation. It was a pity he’d been forced to lose it at such an inconvenient time, but everything was finally being put right. He would get his body back and return to Aziraphale’s side and everything would be the way that it was supposed to be. And if he played his cards right, he would never have to deal with this bullshit again.

Crowley felt a surge of warmth as the shadows surged through him, combining with his essence, and then there was nothing. He blinked and looked down at his hands. No more golden dust beneath his skin. No more shifting form. He was solid as a rock.

He had a body again.

“You’re going to fix that little mix up with those seals, yeah?” Crowley demanded, rather than asked, dreading the thought of having to repeat this experience all over again. “I would hate to find myself struck by a car or flattened by a train and have to do this all over again.” He paused and took his time looking them both straight in the eyes. “You said so yourself, my absence has been a disaster recently. I would hate to be either of you if this unfortunate circumstance happens a second time.”

“Conzzzider it already done,” Beelzebub buzzed, the gravity in their voice convincing Crowley that the demon would keep their word. The seal with his name on it would likely be removed before he stepped foot on Earth again. 

“Pleasure doing business with you,” the red-haired demon sneered, not meaning a single word. “But if you’ll excuse me, I have an angel in a lovely little London bookshop who is waiting for me.”

He made to turn around, but the sudden shift in the energy surrounding them made Crowley pause. He wasn’t normally one for reading people, but the obvious change that came over both the demons at the mention of Aziraphale made Crowley’s stomach clench with fear.

“What. Happened?” 

Both demons shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another. Crowley glared at them behind dark sunglasses, willing them to reveal what they knew. They  _ had _ to know something he didn’t. And based on the way they were looking at him, with guarded expressions and hesitant eyes, it wasn’t something good. 

“Your angel has been rather busy while you’ve been gone,” Dagon said at last after receiving a silent nod of approval from Lord Beelzebub. “In the time you have been gone, Aziraphale has taken it upon himself to rid the Earth of demons. Permanently. All on some fruitless quest to find you.”

_ No. _ That couldn’t be right. They were lying to him. Aziraphale would never do what they claimed he had done. In the six-thousand years they had been on Earth together, Crowley had never seen his angel hurt any creature. At least, not intentionally. And any dove or other creature that happened to get mixed up in his magic acts were always restored to their proper condition once the error was revealed. 

“No,” Crowley growled, feeling his now very solid heart beginning to start rapidly beating within his chest. “No. You’re lying. Aziraphale wouldn’t. He could  _ never. _ ”

“He can,” Beelzebub asserted. “And he did. Over the pazzt eighty yearzzz, your angel hazz dezztroyed  _ hundredzzz _ of my demonzz. Not dizzcorporated. Dezztroyed completely.”

Eighty years? Now Crowley knew they were lying to him. He had only been trapped down here a few weeks at most. There was no way Aziraphale had been alone on Earth for nearly a century. It just wasn’t possible.

“I don’t believe you,” Crowley declared, despite the way his heart froze inside his chest. It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t. How could eighty years have gone by so quickly? He knew he was in Hell, but surely Crowley would have realized. His watch may be broken, but there was a huge difference between being trapped in a terrifying nightmare for a few weeks and being trapped for eighty  _ years _ .

Crowley would have gone insane after eighty years of that torture. He was sure of it.

“We didn’t azzzk you to,” Beelzebub stated with such indifference that Crowley almost risked everything just to get one good right hook at their face. 

Gathering all his courage, Crowley turned around and strode out the room, tossing both demons a wave as he stepped dramatically over the fallen door and made a beeline for the stairs he knew would return him to Earth.

“Ciao,” he called, refusing to look back. Refusing to turn around and ask a single one of the torrent of questions that was currently coursing through his mind. There was no point. Not in the grand scheme of things.

Even if what Beelzebub and Dagon said was true, even if Aziraphale had destroyed demons in his quest to find Crowley. Even if Crowley had been trapped down here for nearly a century, it didn’t matter. He had his body back. He was on his way  _ home _ . All he had to do was cross through the final set of double doors and reach the top of the stairs and he would be with Aziraphale again, the only place he’d ever truly belonged.

Once again, Crowley felt his heart freeze over as he rounded the corner and came face to face with the gate to Hell. In his opinion, it had always been a bit lackluster. The entrance to Hell was guarded by two massive stone doors. In their prime, the doors probably had been awe-inspiring, with intricate designs carved into their surface, the handles shining with bright new material. That intensity had been quickly overtaken by the gloomy misery that exuded from this place, turning a once formidable structure into a crumbling shadow of its former glory.

The last time Crowley had seen these doors had been back when he’d been reporting on Warlock. Before they’d realized he was the wrong boy. In Crowley’s mind, it had only been six years, give or take a few months, since he’d last walked down this path. He hadn’t really expected the doors to look that different, even if the time he’d been away was much longer than he’d originally thought. When Crowley’s eyes set their sights on the towering structure, he froze in his advance.

While, technically, the doors were still standing in one piece, they could hardly be called functioning doors. There was a blasted hole in the center of one of them, black char marks around the entire deformity. Although the demon could see no smoke, he felt like he could still smell the stone burning away, pieces crumbling to dust before him.

His entire body shaking, Crowley forced himself to move forward. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he approached, amber eyes fixated on the black marks surrounding a very angel-sized hole in the center of one of the doors.

A shudder ran through his entire body as Crowley gingerly stepped through, careful not to let a single piece of him touch the door as he went. This was holy energy, no doubt about it. Aziraphale had been here. Or, more precisely, Aziraphale’s  _ sword _ had been here.

Crowley shuddered at the thought.

Right. That settled it. He had to get home now and talk to Aziraphale. Crowley was sure that whatever had happened, they could fix it, so long as they were together. 

Taking the steps two at a time, the demon surged forward, all other thoughts forgotten except for ones of a round smiling face and curly white-blonde hair. Of bright blue eyes and the smell of hot cocoa and old books and the warmth and light that only his angel could exude.

He could see it now. The light at the top of the stairs. He was going to make it. There were only a dozen steps left now. Ten. Nine. Eight.

He was running now, running faster than he had ever run before. Hope flourished in his heart and even though Crowley could no longer see it, he could feel the golden warmth pulsing through his entire body, filling him with a warmth like no other he had ever known.

Seven. Six.

Aziraphale was right beside him, urging him onward in his mind, guiding Crowley’s steps as he placed one foot in front of the other. He knew it was impossible. He knew it made no sense. The angel couldn’t be here beside him. The feelings currently coursing through Crowley’s body were figments of his own imagination. If Aziraphale really could have been here, he would have revealed himself by now. He would have taken Crowley into his arms and promised to never ever let go. At least, that was what Crowley hoped he would do. What Crowley wished he would do.

Still, the knowledge that this was all inside his head couldn’t stop the grin from spreading widely across Crowley’s face. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this happy.

Five. Four. Three.

_ Come home, my dear,  _ the Aziraphale in his mind urged him.  _ Come home to me. I’ve been waiting for you all this time. I miss you, my dearest Crowley. _

_ I miss you too angel.  _ Crowley braced himself against the wall, his hand pushing off the warm surface as he propelled himself forward.

Two.

One.

He was going home.

_ I’m coming, Aziraphale. Just hang on. I’ll be with you soon. I promise. _

_ I’ll be home soon. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone! :) :) :) 
> 
> Thank you to everyone following this story so far, to those of you who have been here from the beginning and those that have joined us more recently. I'm having so much fun writing this for you all to enjoy and I hope you are getting just as much pleasure as I am.
> 
> We are almost at my favorite part of Lei_sam's comic, so you can bet there will be some great chapters headed your way in the coming weeks :)
> 
> Until then, I hope you have a wonderful weekend. See you back here on Tuesday.


	19. Chapter 17

Most times, when Aziraphale left the bookshop, he was gone for more than just a few hours. Most times, when he returned, the angel felt a mixture of the ever-present heartache that had lingered inside of his chest for decades and a desire to restart his search immediately, fueled by the latest interaction, desperate to try again. Most times, when Aziraphale stepped over the threshold into the bookshop, he immediately began researching where he might go next. Looking for signs that a demon was abound. They weren’t always easy to spot, these signs. It had taken Aziraphale years to figure out what to look for, but now he was experienced. Now, he had decades of tracking down demons under his belt. With each failure came a new resolve. He would find Crowley. He had to believe that to be true, or what was the point?

Not this time. This time, the angel walked through the front door and made a straight line for his favorite armchair, stepping around several stacks of newspapers scattered around the shop. He collapsed into it, closing his eyes as a fresh wave of tears finally bubbled to the surface. Aziraphale had been unable to keep them at bay any longer. He’d held himself together well enough down in Hell, just as he had when he’d taken a Holy Water bath all those years ago. But now, sitting in this empty building that had once been so warm, so welcoming, Aziraphale finally began to fall apart.

Crowley was dead. Crowley was gone forever. There was no other explanation for what had just happened. Aziraphale went over the details in his mind. He replayed every little thing he had tried since he’d first walked into that blasted apartment to find his friend’s body lying limp and lifeless on the floor.

He’d gone to the former Antichrist for help. He’d tried a summoning circle. He’d tracked down every demon who had dared show their face on Earth these past fifty years. He found the demon who had killed Crowley off in the first place. Aziraphale had marched up to Hell’s gates and cut them down with his bare hands, but none of it had done any good. No one knew where Crowley was. No one knew how to find him. The demon was just…gone.

How? How had this happened? How had he _wasted_ fifty years of his life searching for a hope that did not exist? Crowley was gone and Aziraphale hadn’t known – hadn’t been able to feel it. How was that possible? How could Crowley be _gone_ while Aziraphale was still here, the seconds of his life still ticking by like they still bloody mattered?

Nothing mattered. Not anymore. Without Crowley, who was he? He was an angel without Heaven – and not even a proper angel at that. An angel without a home. An angel with no friends. Everyone he had ever loved was either dead or had forgotten about him by now. And Crowley? Crowley, his beloved demon, his constant companion for over six-thousand years. The one whom he was meant to hate, the one whom he’d grown to love. The one he wanted to spend the rest of his remaining days with. Crowley was gone. He wasn’t here on Earth. Hell didn’t have him. Heaven didn’t have him. The demon had simply vanished, like he had never existed in the first place.

What was Aziraphale supposed to do now?

“Aziraphale!”

The angel jumped to his feet, a wave of fear coursing through him at the sound. He peeked around the corner and saw, to his astonishment, several very familiar human-shaped beings, dressed in stylish grey suits standing near the front door.

Aziraphale huffed, his initial fear immediately fading. The nerve of them! Miracling themselves into his home like they owned the place? Gabriel hadn’t been around to bother him in fifty years. Why was he suddenly inside Aziraphale’s bookshop? And more importantly, what was the best course of action to get him _out_?

“Get out!” the angel shouted, figuring a direct approach would be the best to try out first. He strode forward, feet dancing quickly around the obstacles between them as if they had a mind of their own. “This is _my_ bookshop. My _home_. And you lot are not welcome here.”

For a brief moment, Aziraphale thought about summoning his sword. Currently, it lay in the same pocket dimensions where he kept his wings constantly tucked away from prying human eyes. No one would be able to get in or out of such a place without his permission. The sword was perfectly safe, and the angel technically didn’t need to disturb it, at least, not yet.

He may not need it, but having that flaming sword in his hand would feel really bloody good right about now.

“Relax, Sunshine,” Gabriel directed and Aziraphale saw red. “We’re not here to cause any trouble.”

“We’ve come to give you an assignment,” Michael explained, their brown eyes flicking hesitantly around the room, as if judging whether or not Aziraphale would be up to the task. “There is a demon on the loose we need taken care of. It’s operating outside of Hell’s authority and is disrupting the lives of thousands upon thousands of people. We’ve come to ask you to take on the task.”

“No!” Aziraphale snarled at them, anger burning through his veins. “I am not under your command anymore, _any of you_. You gave that up the moment you tried to _murder_ Crowley and I with Hellfire and Holy Water. I report only to myself.”

“Aziraphale,” Gabriel began gently with a voice that almost sounded sincere. “We aren’t here to command anything of you.” He glanced back and forth between the other Archangels standing on either side of him. “We are here asking for your help. Asking you to step up and do the task that you were created to do.”

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes. “I was created to guard the gates to Eden.” He stopped and swept his arms around him, watching as their gaze followed his movements. “And as you can see, I was a right failure at that. So why don’t you fly back to Heaven and leave me be.”

Not waiting to hear their response, Aziraphale whirled around and walked over toward the first thing his eyes fell upon. A stack of newspapers rested upon the floor, wedged in the space between two bookshelves nearby. Without another word, the angel began to flip through the pages, taking note of the dates and if anything noteworthy was on the front page for that day. This particular stack was from the summer of 2056, when the Olympics had, unfortunately, found their way back to London.

Aziraphale had spent that entire summer abroad, working diligently on his quest to find Crowley. He’d barred the doors to the bookshop and sprinkled a few extra miracles to ensure its safety, only returning once the sport-enthused rabble had returned to their homes. He’d been pleased to see that the newspapers left on his front stoop had miracled themselves inside the building in a nice neat stack by the door. The angel had spent the next several hours sorting through them, making sure they were all in the proper place for when Crowley came back.

“You can’t just walk away from this!” Uriel shouted at him, pulling Aziraphale out of his memories. “There is a _demon_ out there, terrorizing innocent humans. A giant, nightmare inducing serpent has set itself loose on the world and you want to hole yourself up in a _bookshop._” Aziraphale turned back around and she sneered at him in disdain. “You were given that sword for a reason. So use it.”

At her words, the angel froze. Hope that he convinced himself was dead flared back to life in his chest as Aziraphale momentarily forgot how to breathe. _No. _It couldn’t be possible. He tried to rein in his feelings, tried to snatch that hope and shove it back where it belonged. If the angel allowed it to flourish now, he was only inviting an even greater heartbreak to strike him later.

“What kind of serpent?” Aziraphale found himself asking, mouth suddenly dry. He was surprised he was able to speak at all, the way his heart was currently lodged in his throat. “What did it look like?”

Uriel scoffed, her irritation on full display. “Does it matter? A demon is a demon, regardless of what it looks like.”

Aziraphale’s blue eyes narrowed as frustration seeped into his veins. “What did it look like?” he asked again, looking back and forth between each of the Archangels standing before him. Aziraphale’s stance was hard, his voice unwavering. He was a far cry from the meek and timid angel he had once been. “And please,” he continued, forcing a polite smile, “be as specific as possible. I’ll need all the details you can offer to ensure I deal with it properly.”

The Archangel paused, turning to look at both Gabriel and Michael. When they said nothing, Uriel turned back toward Aziraphale, and with a deep sigh, she gave into his request.

“It was large. The biggest snake I’ve ever seen, although I realize that isn’t saying much.” She knew as well as Aziraphale that none of the Archangels spent a particularly long amount of time on Earth. “Probably as wide as a crocodile at the center. Several dozen feet long. Mostly black, with a red underbelly.”

_Crowley._ Aziraphale’s heart sang with joy as Uriel finished her description. Tears sprung to his eyes and the angel was barely able to keep them at bay. He would not cry now. Not here, with an audience of Archangels standing right before him. Was it really possible? Could his demon be alive after all? After all this time?

“Well now,” the blonde-haired angel began, forcing his face to appear neutral. “That does sound rather dreadful. I suppose I’d best take a look after all. Where did you say this - ” Aziraphale’s voice caught in his throat momentarily, his stomach burning with white-hot anger and disgust as he forced himself to continue. “Excuse me.” He coughed, trying his best to cover up his aching heart. “Where did you say this fiend was located?”

Gabriel stepped forward, a rolled-up sheet of parchment appearing in his hands. “It was last sighted in the Arabian Desert. About three hundred kilometers west of the Euphrates river.” Aziraphale took the paper as the Archangel handed it over but did not open it. He would feel much more comfortable digging into this mystery when the angel was alone in his bookshop once more.

“Anything else I should know?” Aziraphale asked, clutching the paper close to his chest. He could feel his fingers beginning to tremble and the angel desperately tried to still them. Gabriel and the others couldn’t see him falter. Aziraphale had to remain strong, for _Crowley_. He had to keep himself together just a little bit longer. Long enough to find his beloved demon and bring him home.

“Just a fair reminder,” Gabriel started, nodding his head toward the sheet of paper in between Aziraphale’s trembling hands, “there is a decent amount of Holy land in that general area. I am sure you don’t need me to tell you that demons are much weaker on Holy ground. You’ll likely have a great advantage if you can lure the creature away from whatever poor village it’s decided to torment.” 

The Archangel paused, slipping his hands into the pockets of his long grey coat. “I’d caution you, Aziraphale, to keep your focus. A demon on Holy ground is still a demon. Take care.”

Aziraphale simply nodded his head, memories of a red-haired demon hopping about inside a church filling his mind. If Crowley really was somewhere in the Middle Eastern desert, Aziraphale needed to get to him quickly. There was no telling what trouble his friend might get into. Normally, Aziraphale wouldn’t worry so much about the demon. Out of the two of them, Crowley was much more capable of taking care of himself. It was normally Aziraphale who needed the help getting out of sticky situations.

He was worried, though. If Crowley had found himself back on Earth, why hadn’t he come straight back to the bookshop? How had he ended up in a completely different corner of the world? He should have tried to come back, or at least attempted to contact Aziraphale. The fact that he hadn’t made the angel fear something was wrong.

There was no question about it. Aziraphale had to get to his friend. As soon as possible.

“And Aziraphale?” Gabriel asked, snapping the Principality from his thoughts. He looked up to find that Uriel and Michael were already on their way out the door, leaving only one Archangel in the bookshop with him. “Naturally, we won’t be expecting an official report from you. Like you said before, you don’t work for us. Not directly. We’d still like to follow up with you, after the fact, if you wouldn’t mind. To make sure the people in that area are safe from harm.”

“Of course, Gabriel,” the angel replied, trying to hide his shock. Never in a million years would he have expected the Archangel Gabriel to be so understanding. It almost sounded like he cared what happened to those humans. “I’d be happy to meet with you once I return.”

Gabriel smiled, walking out the front door without another word. Why they all insisted on leaving via conventional means when Aziraphale had witnessed them materialize directly into his bookshop was beyond him, but he wasn’t about to complain. Now that he was alone, Aziraphale could begin his search.

The first thing he did was miracle every scrap of paper off his desk, tucking them all neatly into vacant spaces in the drawers that logically shouldn't be there. Next, he finally placed the rolled-up parchment in the center of the cleared off space, unfurling it slowly and willing it to remain flat on the wooden surface as he took in all of the details.

It was a map, with carefully labeled indications of where Crowley had been seen. Of course, Aziraphale didn’t _know_ this demon he was going to track down was his best friend, but who else could it be? Uriel’s description sounded exactly like the serpent he had seen on the wall of Eden all those years ago. This couldn’t be just a simple coincidence. It _had_ to be Crowley. 

Unless they were lying to him.

Aziraphale froze, breath stilling inside of his lungs. Could they be lying to him? There was no doubt in his mind that they would, if given the chance. The real question Aziraphale needed to ask himself was: were they capable of it in this specific circumstance? In order for the lie to be convincing, the Archangels would have needed to know what Crowley looked like in his serpent form. Did they have access to that kind of information? Had any of them seen Crowley take that form in person?

As far as he was aware, they hadn’t. Aziraphale had only seen his friend as a serpent once, on the day they had met. Crowley didn’t like slithering around as a snake. He much preferred his human corporation and Aziraphale very much doubted Crowley would have chosen to utilize it again as long as he didn’t have to. Humans tended not to react well to giant serpents when confronted with them. The demon had a much easier time carrying out his temptations utilizing his human form.

So, if the Archangels hadn’t seen Crowley’s serpent form with their own eyes, was it possible they could have gotten an accurate description from someone in Hell? Obviously, Aziraphale knew that Michael had their ties to the demons down below. Would any of them have remembered what Crowley looked like? And if so, would they have been willing to pass that information over to the Archangels.

There was no possible way to know. Either, Crowley had preferred his human form in Hell, just as he had on Earth, and three was a chance none of the demons knew what he looked like. Not even Beelzebub. Or, he had displayed his serpent form to someone in Hell and that individual had told Gabriel or one of the other Archangels.

Ultimately, Aziraphale decided it didn’t matter. If there was even a sliver of a chance he might be able to find Crowley again, the angel was going to take it. What other choice did he have?

Taking a deep breath, Aziraphale began to study the map. He memorized each and every marking on that page, taking a note of the easiest entrance and exit points, nearby villages he could gather information in. Aziraphale miracled up every book within the greater London area describing the climate in this part of the world, so he would be prepared. He opened every bible, every historical and theological text and noted which regions might be dangerous to Crowley so he could be sure to steer clear of them, should the need arise.

Not wanting to forget anything, Aziraphale grabbed a spare notebook from his desk drawer and furiously began taking notes. He wrote down every possible bit of information he could, miracling away the pain as his hand began to cramp. There was no time to dally. He had no way to know how long Crowley would remain in the area or what he was even doing there. Aziraphale needed to know _everything_ about the situation he was about to throw himself into and he needed to learn it quickly. There was no telling what state of mind Crowley was in after what he’d been through these past fifty years and Aziraphale wasn’t about to go in unprepared and risk losing his friend again.

He was determined to come back with Crowley by his side, or not at all.

Once the angel was satisfied he had done all he could, Aziraphale closed his eyes and stepped away from the table. He didn’t know if She was listening anymore, or if She ever _had_ really listened to them in the first place, but Aziraphale took a deep breath and sent up a prayer anyway. It’s not as if the act could do any more harm, at this point.

_Please,_ Aziraphale felt his heart ache with the thought as, once again, memories of a red-haired demon surfaced to the front of his mind. _Let him be alright. Let this work. Let me find him and bring him home._

Opening his eyes once more, Aziraphale reached forward and picked up the notebook, slipping it inside the pocket of his vest with a gentle pat for good luck. He took one more deep, shuddering breath in an attempt to steady his nerves, looking around the bookshop one last time at the rows upon rows of shelves and all the books and newspapers he had strewn about.

“Goodbye, old friend,” Aziraphale murmured softly into the dusty air that hovered around him. “I do hope we meet again someday.”

And then, with a snap of his fingers, the angel vanished, leaving behind a two hundred and sixty-nine year old bookshop, several stacks of unread newspapers, dozens of bookshelves stuffed to the brim, and a rather detailed and important bit of parchment laying across his ancient mahogany desk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't sleep, so you guys get this chapter a bit earlier than usual today. I hope you like it!
> 
> Just a reminder, this story would not have been possible without the brilliantly talented Lei_sam! If you haven't already (and have the desire) don't forget to give them some love too!
> 
> The Ineffable Plan Comic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19926673/chapters/47182546  
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Leisan24657341  
Tumblr: https://lei-sam.tumblr.com/
> 
> See you all on Friday as Crowley finally makes his way back to the bookshop!


	20. Chapter 18

His plan was to miracle himself directly to the bookshop. That was the quickest, easiest way to get back to Aziraphale. Step outside, snap his fingers, and he’d be back. Everything else could wait until after Crowley had seen his angel. He didn’t need to check on his apartment or the plants he’d left behind that most certainly hadn’t begun to wilt, if they knew what was good for them. Crowley didn’t even have to go and check on the Bentley. None of that mattered to him. Aziraphale was his top priority. He had to get to his angel. Finally, after all this time, he was just one miracle away.

Crowley had a plan. A good plan. A solid plan. A plan that was easily executable and held the smallest chance for something to go wrong.

A plan that went out the window the moment Crowley stepped outside. 

For a second or day or perhaps even a century, the demon stood there in the middle of the sidewalk amber eyes blown wide beneath a pair of stylish sunglasses. At least, they might have been considered stylish a hundred years ago. Now? Well, now Crowley wasn’t sure he knew the meaning of the word.

_No._ Crowley’s stomach sank all the way into his feet as he took in the flashy garments and the polished black streets and the cars that seemed to not quite touch the ground as they made their way through the city. This couldn’t be real. Beelzebub and Dagon had been lying to him. There was no way he’d been stuck in that nightmare for _eighty_ years. 

He must have taken a wrong turn in his rush to get out - must have ended up walking out some back door that lead to a different part of the world, or an alternate universe, perhaps. 

Wherever he was, it sure as hell wasn’t London. At least, not the London he remembered.

He needed to get to the bookshop. Everything else could be figured out once he was there. Surely, Aziraphale’s bookshop would still be standing, just as it always had been. That building had remained practically the same since the day his angel had opened it in 1800. The most recent update Aziraphale had made was the addition of a computer from the 1980s that the angel used to do his taxes, and even then, such an addition had been like pulling teeth. 

Aziraphale’s bookshop would be familiar. Aziraphale’s bookshop would be exactly as he remembered it. The building would be full of dusty tomes and mislabeled shelves to deter customers and a lumpy old couch that always seemed to attract the best rays of sun beaming in through the window. Aziraphale’s bookshop wouldn’t be loud or crowded or strange. It would be like finally coming home.

Crowley lifted a hand and snapped his fingers, focusing all his thoughts on the place he’d yearned to be for the past eighty years. He closed his eyes and let the thoughts envelop him, imagining that he could smell the faded parchment and the hot cocoa resting on Aziraphale’s desk. In just a second, he would be back in that wonderful place and everything would be alright again,

The noise persisted. People still glided by him on the streets with fancy hover-contraptions strapped to their feet. He could still smell the foul stench in the air and feel the summer’s heat against his skin. Crowley opened his eyes, chest heaving as panic began to set in. Why hadn’t that worked? Why couldn’t he miracle himself back to the bookshop?

Again, he snapped his fingers, and again, the demon remained out on the London street. This wasn’t right. Crowley could _always_ miracle himself to the bookshop, from the moment Aziraphale had opened it. Even when they’d still been on opposite sides, even when Aziraphale was still claiming they were hereditary enemies. Even then, Crowley had still been allowed in the bookshop. So why was it refusing to let him in now?

There were only two reasons he could think of. Either, Aziraphale had placed a ward over the shop, barring all demons from entering, including himself, or, the bookshop was no longer there. 

Either alternative was unthinkable.

Crowley needed to go there for himself and see, but he was rooted to the spot. This London was strange and unfamiliar to him. How was he supposed to go about navigating it? From here, it would take nearly an hour to walk to the bookshop on foot. He couldn’t risk being exposed in this alien world for that long. Who knew what kind of dangers lurked about every corner? Crowley could be hit by one of those hovercraft, or electrocuted by some stray wire. He could be trampled to death in the crowd. There were an infinite number of ways he could be discorporated along the walk, and the demon was not keen on any of them. Not after what he’d just been forced to endure.

Was there anywhere else he could go? Somewhere safe and quiet and stable? Somewhere close by to Aziraphale’s shop where the walk might seem a bit less daunting?

The Mayfair flat. Unless whoever had discorporated him all those years ago had taken the time to painstakingly undo all his protective wards, the flat should still be there. It should still be _his_. No one would have known to sell it. No human would have moved in. There would be no trace of dust or dirt or anything else to indicate the passage of time. 

If nothing had been tampered with, it would have been as if he’d never left.

Crowley snapped his fingers once more and instantly found himself inside a dark room. He breathed a sigh of relief as the silence fell around him, blocking out the sounds of this futuristic environment he’d found himself in. Just as he’d hoped, the flat was exactly as he’d left it. The living room was free of clutter, a pair of leather couches and a tv mounted to his wall. No books, no magazines, no dishes of any kind. To one side of the room lay his plants and his study, and on the other side, the kitchen he never used, and the bedroom with his king sized bed and its black satin sheets.

For a moment, Crowley felt a wave of exhaustion overtake him. He wanted nothing more than to stumble down the hall to his bedroom, miracle his ruined clothes away, throw himself down on the plush mattress, and sleep for an eternity. He couldn’t do that, however. Crowley still had to find a way to Aziraphale. From here, the walk to the bookshop would only be about fifteen minutes. Ten if he really threw caution to the wind. While it was better than the alternative, Crowley still felt a tug in his stomach at the thought of being out in the open so long. There had to be another way.

His eyes slid across the room, landing on the mobile phone that had been placed precisely in the center of his coffee table. _Of course_. He should just call Aziraphale. If the bookshop was still standing, Aziraphale could lower his wards and Crowley would pop right on over. It couldn’t be much simpler than that.

Crowley walked over to the phone and picked up. The demon had expected the phone to have lost no charge while he’d been away, and the piece of machinery had listened to his will. With a single press of a button, the phone was ringing, trying to reach Aziraphale’s landline on the other end. His heartbeat quickened with each consecutive ring. The fact that the call had gone through was a good sign, wasn’t it? Did that mean the bookshop was still standing? If so, why wasn’t his angel answering?

“C’mon Aziraphale,” Crowley found himself urging. “Pick up. _Pick up._”

Aziraphale did not pick up. Not the first time Crowley rang him. Or the second, or the third. By the fifth time, the demon had just about enough. His eyes began to frantically flit across the room, looking for anything that might give him an idea about what to do next. Where else could his angel be? Why hadn’t Aziraphale heard the phone ring? The angel _knew_ Crowley was the only one who ever called, so why hadn’t he picked up?

A flash of color in the adjoining room caught Crowley’s eye. Was that a...pink flower? Crowley didn’t own any pink flowers. He didn’t have any flowering plants at all, except the white gardenia’s he’d planted for Aziraphale. Like proper plants, it appeared that the blossoms had done what was best for them and stayed very much alive while he was gone. But where had that other plant come from?

Slipping his phone into his back pocket, Crowley sauntered over to the double glass doors, wrenching them open with a stern look on his face, setting about half the plants in the room trembling in fear at the addition of his presence.

The other half, to his surprise, did absolutely nothing. They didn’t tremble, didn’t quake in fear, didn’t fill the air with their apprehension. If anything, they almost looked...happy.

Something stirred in the corner of his eye and Crowley immediately had his back pressed against the wall, heart leaping into his throat, only to find the presence of a small, blue and black butterfly, perched on one of the lovely pink blossoms.

A butterfly? Crowley looked around the rest of the room, his eyes widening with each degree that his head turned. What had once been a room filled with the most lush, verdant, terrified plants in all of London was now a rainbow of life and color and beauty. And not only was the room filled with the colors of various blossoms - carnations, lilies, tulips and the like, but there were dozens upon dozens of insects. Butterflies mostly, with the occasional bumblebee floating by, its round black bottom swinging back and forth through the air.

What was going on here? Where in the world had these flowers come from, and more importantly, how had these creatures gotten in? The windows were still shut tight, so it couldn’t have been through there. What other way in or out of this room existed?

Crowley’s eyes suddenly fell to the table, taking in the collection of books and papers all strewn about. How odd. The demon couldn’t recall putting any books in here. Especially not ones about _gardening_. He didn’t need books to tell him how to grow his plants. If they knew what was best for them, the plants would do their own growing. And what was with all these loose papers? That handwriting certainly wasn’t his, so whose - 

Understanding hit him like a bolt of lightning. His hand flew to his mouth, tears overflowing from his eyes as the demon slowly lowered the sunglasses, dropping them to the floor. Aziraphale had been here. _Aziraphale_ had done this - had cared for his plants while he’d been away. The angel had brought a fucking library to tell him how to do it, diligently taking notes, bringing in extra flowering plants and beautiful garden insects to help spread the pollen around so all the plants would flourish. 

“You right bastard,” he whispered to no one as his heart was eclipsed with love. Crowley didn’t deserve this - didn’t deserve this kindness, this thoughtfulness, this overwhelming act of caring and compassion and _love_. Aziraphale had taken time out of his day, out of many of his days based off the calendar currently hanging by the window, to come over here and care for his plants. To make sure they were here for him whenever he returned, to welcome him home.

He stood there, amidst the flowers and the fluttering insects and the bright afternoon sun, and simply breathed it all in, closing his eyes as he imagined Aziraphale tutting back and forth throughout this room, making sure the soil was properly damp and enough sunlight poured in through the windows. When he opened his eyes, Crowley noticed that the angel had even installed a small tube up by the ceiling, connected to the outside world, allowing the butterflies and bumblebees to come and go as they pleased.

Had Aziraphale done anything else to the flat while he was away? He couldn’t imagine any reason for the angel to mess about in the kitchen - Crowley hardly ate anything at all, and never food that was prepared by his own hands. The living room hadn’t been touched and a quick glance through the revolving stone door told him the same was true about his office. That left only one place.

Crowley’s cheeks flushed with the thought of Aziraphale entering his bedroom. The angel had been there once before, on the night after the world hadn’t ended. It shouldn’t have been such a big deal, especially since Crowley wouldn’t have been there with him this time, but still. Something about the mental picture of Aziraphale tidying up around the place where he slept, fluffing the pillows, straightening the covers, it was enough to fill Crowley’s entire body with an inexplicable warmth.

The demon practically flew down the hall toward the room, leaving the glass doors to his own, personal garden wide open. He stumbled a bit as he rounded the corner, hands trembling as they felt the familiar chill of the metal doorknob underneath his fingertips. Opening the door swiftly, Crowley’s amber eyes darted frantically around the room, looking for anything that might be out of place. His memory was a bit fuzzy - it had been some time since he’d stepped foot in this room, but the demon was sure he would recognize it if Aziraphale had been here.

Disappointment flooded him as Crowley realized that the room was the same as he’d left it. The same collection of pillows, the same silk sheets and plush comforter. All his clothes were in their proper drawers, out of sight. Nothing was out of place. Why, even the little brown trinket hanging around his bedpost - 

Crowley stopped, a sharp breath entering his lungs before he even understood why. Slowly, piece by piece, the demon’s mind began to formulate an idea of just what exactly he was staring at.

He’d never seen one up close before - not in person, anyway, but Crowley was almost certain that this thing tied around the tall, almost black wooden post was a dreamcatcher. It was small, no larger than the size of his palm, wrapped in brown thread and secured with three white feathers dangling from the end, just below the intricate string pattern that formed some sort of flower blossom at the center.

Step by step, the demon found himself drawing closer until he was mere inches from the object. Without warning, his legs gave out underneath him and Crowley found himself falling less than gracefully onto the bed, the mattress sagging comfortably beneath his weight. His amber eyes were fixed on the object, as if in a trance. Slowly, without realizing it, pale fingers reached out and brushed their very tips against the soft feathers.

A tingle of energy immediately shot up his arm, spreading warmth throughout his entire body. Crowley gasped and pulled his hand sharply back, already yearning to feel the feather’s soft touch again. _Aziraphale_, his heart cried out and although he had no way to know for sure, Crowley believed with all his heart that this gift was from his angel. He could _feel_ his presence, as if he was right here in this room.

Where had this come from? This object was even more bizarre than the flourishing garden in the other room. Crowley didn’t understand. How had a dreamcatcher - one made by Aziraphale - end up hanging in his bedroom?

His eyes once again fell to the table nearest him. This time, instead of finding a stack full of gardening books, Crowley saw a small black box with a red ribbon lying on top. Next to it was a single, handwritten note.

_To chase away any nightmares you may be facing, and grant to you, my dearest, only the most pleasant of dreams._

_-Aziraphale_

Once again, tears threatened to flood Crowley’s eyes, but this time he pushed them back. This was no time to be sentimental. Crowley had to get to the bookshop, _now_.

With a snap of his fingers, the demon finally swapped out his disgusting, Hell-ridden clothes and put himself back into his usual all black attire. Crowley had no way to know if tight jeans and black leather jackets were in style anymore, but he frankly didn’t care. With any luck, Aziraphale would still be dressed like he had stepped right out of the 1800s. If it didn’t matter to his angel what attire Crowley chose to wear, it certainly didn’t matter to Crowley.

Right. Just one more thing to grab, and he could be on his way.

Crowley returned to the garden room in a matter of seconds, eyes searching for the familiar white plants he’d terrorized so long ago.

“Alright, you,” he began, grabbing the plant closest to the center of the table. “You’re coming with me. The rest of you best shape up before I get back or I swear, I’ll burn this whole room down.”

He wouldn’t. Crowley wouldn’t dream of ever destroying something so beautiful that Aziraphale had put so much time into. By the looks of that calendar across the room, he’d come here on schedule every other day during the month of March. Likely, all the other months too.

Hang on. It was far too warm outside to be March. Crowley hadn’t been out there for long, but there was no mistaking that it was absolutely summertime. His stomach flipped around inside of him as he approached the calendar, lifting the pages with trembling hands as he took in the information printed in bright red ink. 

_March 2069_

Crowley wouldn’t call himself particularly gifted in mathematics, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that if Armageddon had been averted in the year 2019 and Crowley had been stuck in Hell for 80 years, that the calendar _should_ read 2099. Not 2069.

_This calendar was 30 years old._

Panic seized at Crowley’s chest again, trying to grab firmly at his heart. The demon fought it off, miracling himself back outside before he could talk himself in or out of the fact that Aziraphale had meticulously checked in on his home for fifty years, only to stop suddenly without warning in the spring of 2069. 

As quickly as he could, Crowley made his way to the bookshop. This part of London was just as loud and bright as Downtown had been, making the demon’s heart beat furiously against his newly formed rib-cage. He stuck to the shadows as much as possible, avoiding the large crowds and the hovering vehicles and everything bright and shiny and new. He had just one kilometer to go. Crowley could make it. If he was careful to stay out of everyone’s way, he was sure to be just fine. 

“Come on, you useless vegetation,” he huffed at the potted plant still pinned underneath his arm. After fifteen minutes of sneaking through the afternoon streets of London, they had finally arrived in Soho. Aziraphale’s bookshop was just around the corner. A lot may have changed in the last eighty years, but Crowley still recognized this place. It was a bit dirtier than he remembered, with almost all the stores much newer, but despite it all, the street felt familiar.

“Don’t lose your nerve now,” he breathed, back pressed into the brick wall behind him, feeling it scratch at him as he slowly made his way around the corner. _There_, at the end of the street was the achingly familiar burgundy framed window, complete with gold lettering above the glass frame. Relief flooded Crowley as he abandoned all caution and practically flew to the bookshop’s front doors.

“Aziraphale!” he shouted as he approached, hope and fear simultaneously warring for dominion inside his heart. “Aziraphale, open up! I’m he-”

Crowley’s words died in his throat as he approached the building. It looked exactly the same as it had always been, except for the peeling paint on the exterior walls. Except for the rusted mail slot on the doors. Except for the windows that had shattered some time ago, leaving gaping holes any which way he looked.

For a moment, the demon found himself frozen, as if under a spell. His free hand moved out in front of him, fingers lightly tracing the edge of the door as his heart simultaneously tried to burst out through his chest. This was not a good sign. Aziraphale _loved_ his bookshop. He would _never_ let it fall into such disarray. Something had happened, Crowley was sure of it.

The bookshop may not have recognized him when he’d tried to miracle right inside of it, but now that he was standing with his palm against its front door, he heard the familiar click of the lock. Crowley was inside in an instant, bursting through the front doors with a flourish, the sudden rush of wind sending piles of papers fluttering to the floor.

Almost immediately, he ran into something solid, sending the demon stumbling forward, potted plant flying from his grasp before he could steady himself. Clay shattered against the hardwood floor as Crowley’s hands shot forward to try and catch himself before he fell flat on his face. His stomach thudded up against the top of a very tall stack of newspapers that teetered wildly to one side, but just barely managed to stay upright as the demon clung to it for dear life.

Eventually, he found his balance again and Crowley was able to right himself once more. He took a look around, snapping his fingers to miracle the plant back together and place it safely out of the way. What in the world had just happened? As he looked around, the demon saw that this wasn’t the only stack littered about the shop. There were dozens of them, many tied up tightly with twine, shoved into corners and up against walls and bookshelves. Scattered about the middle of the floor, making it almost impossible to navigate the space.

What was Aziraphale doing? Why had he hung onto so many newspapers? Aziraphale didn’t even _like_ to read the newspaper. Not the human kind, anyway. He much preferred reading from ‘The Celestial Observer’. And even if he had picked up the habit while Crowley had been away, why hold onto them this long? There must have been _thousands_ of them here. His angel couldn’t really want to _keep_ all of them. So why hadn’t they been miracled away when he’d finished reading them? Or burned up in the fireplace? It didn’t make any sense.

Shaking his head, Crowley brought his mind back to the problem at hand. What did it matter if Aziraphale decided to redecorate his shop with newspapers or anything else he wanted to use? Crowley didn’t care what the bookshop looked like as long as his angel was in it.

Aziraphale’s other wards were still in place, which meant the angel wasn’t _gone_. Not completely. He was just out. Away for some extended period of time. But where could he have gone? And why hadn’t he come back yet?

Without thinking, Crowley found himself meandering over to the desk against the other wall. A shattered window pane beside it, likely due to some high winds or other storm, had allowed the wind to scatter several papers across the floor. Gently, the demon stooped down to pick them up, heart twinging slightly in his chest as he realized that these cards were mementos: Wedding invitations, graduation ceremonies, funeral announcements. Aziraphale had kept them all. 

Crowley sighed. At least he hadn’t been completely alone. At least Aziraphale had the company of his human friends while Crowley had been away. The demon could find a bit of solace in that.

A breeze blew in the several inch wide hole in the glass above him, causing several newspapers and other pages to flutter wildly around him. Something on the desk caught his eye. Something large, smelling of crinkled parchment and ink and something a little bit...holy.

It was a map, Crowley realized, as he stood to examine it. A map of the Middle East. Several places around the Tigris and Euphrates rivers had been marked, indicating a location of something of interest. But what?

One such location, in the Arabian Desert, about three hundred kilometers west of the Euphrates river, had been circled several times in a dark black marking. For reasons unknown to him, Aziraphale had decided he needed to travel to this location thirty years ago. And for whatever reason, he’d never come back.

That settled it, then. Crowley’s jaw flexed as he stood up straight, fingers already dancing across the page to roll it up nice and tight so he could tuck it into the inside pocket of his jacket. If he was about to embark on a quest into the heart of a desert, there was no way Crowley was jumping into things without some kind of guide to lead the way. He’d had enough of wandering aimlessly to last a thousand lifetimes.

“Right,” he began, turning to address the plant he’d left on the side table next to Aziraphale’s favorite chair. “You’re in charge while I’m gone. Don’t you even think about wilting even a millimeter because you think I won’t notice.” The plant trembled before him, causing the demon to smile, just a little bit.

“I’ll be back, _with_ my angel.”

With that final proclamation, he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry everyone...I'm sure you were all very excited to see Crowley finally back in London, only to have your hearts broken again when Aziraphale wasn't there to greet him.
> 
> On Tuesday, we'll find out just what happened to Aziraphale on his trip to the Middle East. Until then, I hope you all have a wonderful weekend!
> 
> A great big 'Thank You' to everyone who has left comments and kudos so far :) seeing them brightens my day like nothing else <3


	21. Chapter 19

The looks Aziraphale continued to get from the locals were filled with confusion and mistrust. He supposed he really couldn’t blame them. Even back in London, where he’d been living for the past four hundred and odd some years, Aziraphale tended to turn heads in a crowd. He supposed that his cream-colored suit, vest, and tartan bow tie were not exactly “stylish” by modern standards, but they had worked perfectly well for him in the 19th century. The angel saw no reason why he needed to make a change.

Here, amidst a small town in the Arabian Desert, he knew there was a lot more than his clothes that were off-putting to these people. Blonde hair, light colored skin, bright blue eyes, Aziraphale was the definition of a fish out of water, and the people around him were determined to make sure he understood that.

The fact that he was continually asking about a particular demon? Well, that didn’t seem to be helping his case either.

“Are you sure you haven’t seen or heard anything?” Aziraphale asked, the Arabic flowing from his tongue naturally even though he hadn’t spoken it conversationally in several centuries. “I assure you, I will make it worth your while.”

Of course, he didn’t have any actual money on him at the moment, although Aziraphale was sure these people thought he did, based off the way their gaze continued to circle back to him. If one of these humans was able to provide him with some useful information, it would be trivial to miracle up enough to satisfy them. 

“We already said,” one of the men growled in his direction, leaning forward a bit overtop of the wooden table in front of him. “We’ve seen nothing of the sort.”

It was hard to tell if he was telling the truth or not. In the end, Aziraphale supposed it didn’t matter. Forcing the truth out of a demon was one thing, but these humans? Aziraphale had been created to protect them. If they claimed to know nothing about Crowley’s whereabouts, he would have to take them on their word.

As soon as he was absolutely sure.

“Gentlemen,” Aziraphale tried again, leaning forward, not caring a bit as the layer of dust and dirt from the table wedged its way between the fibers of his favorite coat. “I have it on good authority that a creature of this nature has been sighted near here. I’d greatly appreciate any help you can provide.”

The three men sitting across from Aziraphale exchanged looks with each other and the angel’s heart fell. Those weren’t the glances of men who were hiding information. Those were glances that screamed they thought Aziraphale was crazy.

Perhaps he was.

“We think it best,” one of the men said, leaning in closer like Aziraphale had, “if you went on your way.”

He was making them uncomfortable, Aziraphale could tell, but what else could he do? He’d been to every town within a hundred miles of where Crowley had been spotted and no one seemed to know anything.

“I really think - ” the angel tried one more time, hoping that if they could sense even a fragment of the way his heart ached, these men might reconsider helping.

Instead, the one at the front growled, almost like a dog might, muttering a rather foul name before spitting directly onto Aziraphale’s face.

“Well then,” the angel huffed as he went to stand, wiping the saliva from his cheek as he slipped back into his more natural English. “There is no need to be so _rude_.” He stalked away from the table without another word. Mind already racing, trying to figure out what to do next.

This was pointless. Aziraphale had traveled halfway across the world, spent three days wandering about the desert, going from town to town asking anyone he came across about rumors of a giant black and red serpent. He hadn’t actually called the creature a demon yet, but Aziraphale could tell that the people he spoke to knew exactly what he was searching for. Either that, or they thought him crazy. Serpents like that didn’t live in this dry, arid climate. He was on a fool’s errand.

And perhaps he was. He wouldn’t put it past Gabriel and the others to lie to him. Aziraphale knew he was still in trouble after everything that had happened with Armageddon. The Archangels may have been impressed by his crusade over the past half a century, but smiting a handful of demons wasn’t enough to get him back into their good graces. 

Why send him here, though? At most, Aziraphale would be chasing down this tall tale for a few days. Maybe a week if they convinced one of these humans to give him something to work with, but then what? If their claim of Crowley’s presence here was fabricated, Aziraphale would find out eventually. And then he would return to London. What did they gain from that?

A new thought settled into Aziraphale’s mind as he looked out over the crowd of people bustling about the street. If the Archangel’s claim that Crowley had been seen here was false, what was he doing here? What was he supposed to do next? If Crowley had never been here, then Aziraphale had nothing. He was just as alone as he had always been. 

Tears pricked at the angel’s eyes and he turned away from the bright afternoon sun, his gaze drifting down the other side of the street. At his side, Aziraphale’s fingers twitched. All it would take was a single snap of his fingers and he would be home again. He would be back in his bookshop, surrounded by all his favorite tomes. He would be comfortable instead of sweltering in the heat. He would be surrounded by peace and quiet instead of caught in the middle of a vibrant crowd.

He would be empty and alone. He would lose the last spark of hope left inside his heart. This was it. If he went home now, he was admitting defeat. He was admitting that Crowley was gone forever.

Aziraphale clenched his fists, blinking the tears away. _No. _He was not ready to give up yet. He would never be ready to give up. Not on Crowley. Not on the only being in his life that actually mattered. The angel would search the entirety of this godforsaken planet for the next six-thousand years if it meant he could see his demon again.

Sighing, Aziraphale turned his head to the side once more, and stopped, blue eyes falling on something in the crowd that was as out of place as he was. A figure stood unmoving several hundred feet away. Aziraphale could only see the back of his head from this vantage point, but it would be impossible to mistake that outfit. Those skinny black pants, that shiny leather jacket, that flaming red hair, glinting like a wildfire under the desert sun.

_Crowley. _Aziraphale’s heart cried out in relief as his legs surged forward. There was no doubt in his mind, his demon was _here_. After everything they’d been through over the past fifty years, Crowley had made it back to Earth, and Aziraphale had _found_ him.

As he stepped forward, his beloved demon began to move too. For the briefest of moments, Aziraphale’s heart sung with joy as he imagined Crowley turning toward him. Their eyes would meet and his beloved would smile. They would run to each other through the crowd, arms reaching out for an embrace that was long overdue.

Aziraphale would pull Crowley close to him. He would bury his hands in the demon’s hair and then he would whisk them both away, back to the safety of his London bookshop. Back to a place of familiarity and comfort. Back to a place they would, hopefully, both call home. If Crowley wanted such a thing.

It was only after a few seconds that Aziraphale realized Crowley hadn’t turned around. Hadn’t appeared to have noticed him at all. In fact, the demon appeared to be walking _away._

No, that couldn’t be right. “Crowley!” Aziraphale called, hoping the sound of his voice would catch his friend’s attention. Surely if Crowley were to hear him, if he were to realize Aziraphale was _here_, he would stop, or at least turn around at the sound of his name.

He did not. Crowley kept walking as if he hadn’t heard at all, meandering away from the center of the town and toward one of the roads leading back out into the desert.

“Crowley!” the angel called again, shoving past a multitude of people to try and catch up. His heart beat frantically against his rib-cage as the angel struggled to get closer. “Excuse me, pardon me. So sorry about that,” Aziraphale mumbled to the locals as he passed them by. “Crowley, _please_!”

Still, the demon didn’t appear to hear him. By the time Aziraphale broke free of the crowd of people around him, Crowley was practically at the end of the street, about to disappear around a corner and out of the angel’s sights.

Aziraphale panicked. _No. _No, he couldn’t lose sight of Crowley, not again. Not _ever._ It had taken so long to find him again, what if Crowley made that turn and vanished for good. What if this was the last time Aziraphale ever saw him and he never got to say all the things he’d been wanting to say?

“Crowley, wait!” he called, desperation seeping into his voice as the angel began to run, huffing and puffing underneath the sweltering sun. the demon disappeared and Aziraphale felt tears begin to run down his cheeks. He staggered forward, ignoring the puzzled looks of the people he passed by. Only one thing mattered now. He had to get to Crowley!

Temporary relief surged through him as Aziraphale rounded the corner and saw that Crowley was still within his sights. The demon was still a good distance away, weaving himself past the occasional person that he happened to cross paths with. None of them seemed to pay him any notice, this one spot of black amidst an ocean of browns, but Aziraphale didn’t care. All he cared about was catching up to his best friend.

Eventually, Aziraphale emerged from the town, still the same distance away from his demon then when he’d first seen Crowley. What was his friend doing? Surely Crowley had to have heard him by now, so why wasn’t he turning around? Why was he ignoring Aziraphale each and every time he called out?

“Crowley…”Aziraphale’s voice died in his throat as he gazed down at the black and red form, slowly making his way into the desert, feet shifting ever so slightly with the loose sand that was supporting him. “Please don’t go.”

Finally, the demon seemed to turn toward him. The breath caught in Aziraphale’s lungs and he hesitated, watching with wide blue eyes as the figure did a complete one hundred and eighty degree turn, fixing his gaze upon the angel nearby. Even at a distance, Aziraphale could see the familiar quirk of Crowley’s grin. He could feel the soft, warm gaze hidden beneath those sunglasses. Joy filled his entire being as Aziraphale smiled back, lifting a hand as if to wave at Crowley, to greet him and call him back over next to the angel, where he belonged. 

Crowley did not come back. Instead, Aziraphale watched with widening eyes and a quickening heart as beautiful black wings materialized behind his friend. They shone brightly in the desert sunlight, glinting various shades of deep blue and green and even purple, depending on how the light hit the feathers.

There was no doubt in his mind that this was his demon. Crowley was _here. _He was _alive_. Without thinking, Aziraphale’s own wings materialized behind him and he took off into the air, following Crowley as the demon flew away from the town and out across the vast expanse of sand beneath them.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale tried again, sure his words would work this time. “Crowley, where are we going?” The demon had yet to say anything to him. Perhaps he hadn’t felt safe surrounded by all those humans. Perhaps Crowley wanted to take them someplace where they could talk privately, where he knew they wouldn’t be interrupted. 

Aziraphale supposed that was alright. While he would prefer to reunite with his best friend right now, he could wait a few moments longer if doing such a thing would secure time alone with his demon. There were so many things Aziraphale wanted to say, most of which were words he should have said a long time ago.

Finally, after ten straight minutes of flying, Crowley began his descent. In the distance, Aziraphale could see the makings of some sort of structure. Was it a camp of some sort? Or perhaps some kind of man made compound?

As he drew closer, the angel realized it was nothing of the sort. Crowley was leading them to a collection of rocks stretching nearly a hundred feet tall and at least three times as wide. There, in the front, was a gaping hole carved out of the side of the tanned stone, leading directly into the center of what looked to be a very large cavern.

Strange, but who was Aziraphale to judge where Crowley wanted to meet? He had no idea what the demon had been through these past fifty years. Maybe Crowley didn’t feel safe back in London after what had happened. Maybe he had been waiting in this cave the whole time, hoping Aziraphale would find him. Maybe, Crowley wasn’t entirely back on Earth yet. Maybe there was something he needed to show Aziraphale in this cave that would help return him to the way he used to be.

Whatever the reason, Aziraphale would follow Crowley anywhere. He would never leave his demon’s side, not for a second. 

The angel touched down on the ground a little bit rougher than he had originally intended. The impact of his feet against the hard surface sent tingles of energy shooting up his legs that Aziraphale quickly brushed away. He squinted his eyes, peering into the darkness, gaze lingering over the tanned stones and shadowy crevices that seemed to hover around every corner.

Crowley was nowhere to be found.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale called into the darkness, taking one tentative step inward, followed by another. “Crowley, dearest, it’s me. It’s Aziraphale. Are you in here?”

“Aziraphale!” 

The familiar voice echoed across the tall ceilings, reverberating around him, seeping into his skin and resonating with every molecule in Aziraphale’s corporation. He shifted to his left a few inches to take in the thin, sinewy form of his beloved demon. Letting out a sob of relief mixed with more than a hint of sorrow, the angel stumbled forward, holding out his arms to wrap Crowley in a tight embrace - one that he would never release him from again.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed as he finally made contact with the being he’d spent so long searching for. As if they had a mind of their own, the angels hands came to rest on either side of Crowley’s face as he took in every feature. Every thin line on his brow, every freckle scattered across his nose and cheeks. “Oh, Crowley, I’ve missed you so much.”

The demon grinned, its sharpness accenting the already harsh lines of his cheeks and jaw. “It’s good to see you, Aziraphale.”

“Where have you been?” the questions came tumbling out of his mouth before Aziraphale could stop them. “What happened to you? I looked everywhere for you - tried everything I could think of to bring you back to me. How are you here now?” His voice broke with emotion, the tears flooding over long ago. “After all this time?”

Crowley shrugged, hands still firmly situated in his pockets. “It’s a long story,” he finally replied. “And not one I’d like to get into now, if I’m being perfectly honest here.”

Aziraphale nodded his head, palms still pressed into the sides of Crowley’s face. “Of course, dearest,” he breathed, tugging the demon closer so their foreheads were resting gently against each others. “I’m just so happy to see you again.”

Beneath his fingertips, Aziraphale could feel Crowley grinning again. “Yeah, right back at you, Aziraphale. It’s been way too long.”

_Wait._ Aziraphale took a step back. Something wasn’t right here. Why wasn’t Crowley more emotional right now? Why did he sound so relaxed? Aziraphale knew that as a demon, Crowley would vehemently deny any such accusations of feelings or fondness toward an angel such as himself, but Aziraphale knew the demon cared for him at some level. He’d heard the way Crowley’s voice had broken on the morning of Armageddon, when Crowley had thought he’d lost his best friend forever. Aziraphale _knew_ Crowley hated to be separated from him for long, not after they’d spent nearly every day together for eleven years before the end of the world came. Aziraphale _knew_ Crowley would have been devastated to be apart for fifty years, especially under the circumstances that had ripped him away from the angel. So why did Crowley seem so unfazed by all of this?

“Crowley, dearest,” Aziraphale began, reaching up to shift his trademark sunglasses out of the way. Perhaps that was the problem. If only Aziraphale could see Crowley’s eyes, then everything would make sense. One glimpse at those eyes and Aziraphale would know just how much Crowley had missed him, even if the demon couldn't quite admit those feelings out loud. “There are so many things I’d like to discuss with you. Important things, and I would feel much better about saying them if I could see your eyes.”

His fingers brushed up against the cool metal frames and Aziraphale tugged them slowly down. They didn’t budge. Aziraphale pulled on them again. Still, the glasses didn’t move.

“Crowley, this isn’t funny,” the angel insisted, taking in that sly grin still plastered on the demon’s face. The first time they’d seen each other in fifty years and Crowley was playing some sort of game with him? Hadn’t Crowley missed him at all? Aziraphale’s heart ached with every day they were apart. Now that he was standing before his demon again, all the angel wanted to do was gaze into his best friend’s eyes and tell him the truth.

On the third pull, when the sunglasses still did not budge, Aziraphale started getting agitated. “Oh, honestly Crowley,” he huffed, readjusting his grip on the infernal devices so both sets of fingers were hooked around the edges. “This has gone on long enough.”

Aziraphale gave one more tug and the glasses finally pried loose. What he saw made the angel almost fall to his knees in shock.

Where there should be warmth and joy, there was only emptiness. Where beautiful golden orbs should have gazed back at him, there was only a vast, black void. Twin expanses of nothingness gazed back at him, that familiar crooked smile still dusting Crowley’s lips.

It wasn’t so familiar anymore.

A wave of electric shock coursed through Aziraphale’s body as he stumbled back away from the _thing_, the imposter standing before him. In an instant, the flaming sword appeared in his hands and the angel had the bright orange blade pointing directly at the creature’s face, the light casting deep shadows against the narrow cheekbones, making the false Crowley appear much more gaunt than Aziraphale knew him to be in real life.

“What are you?” the angel hissed, advancing so that the blade was hovering right in front of the creature’s throat. He would use it if he was forced to. Aziraphale knew now that this was not the real Crowley. It never had been. “What have you done with Crowley?”

“It’s not real, Aziraphale,” a voice announced from behind him. The angel whirled around to find a figure standing in the wide expansive opening to the cave. Sunlight spilled in behind the figure, obscuring all its features, leaving only an unidentifiable shadow in its wake. Luckily for Aziraphale, he would know that voice anywhere.

“Gabriel,” the angel growled, forgetting, for a moment, the Crowley imposter inhabiting the cave with him, instead choosing to round on his former boss. “What have you done with Crowley?”

“He was never here, Aziraphale,” the archangel explained, simply, violet eyes hovering over Aziraphale’s form as the angel drew closer, flaming sword still in hand. “We had to put a stop to your behavior. Smiting demons on Earth is one thing, but breaking down Hell’s front doors? Did you really think we would let you slide on that?”

“What do you care?” Aziraphale snarled as he stepped out into the light, Gabriel’s face illuminated for the first time. The Archangel gazed down at him with shimmering violet eyes, an unreadable expression on his face. “You hate Hell and everything it stands for. What should it matter if I made my way down there to dole out a little punishment?”

Gabriel sighed, folding his hands gently in front of him, face contorting with displeasure. “There are rules, Aziraphale,” he spoke as if talking to a child. “A way things must be done. You cannot simply do whatever you want whenever you feel like it. Go against these rules and there will be consequences.”

Consequences? Aziraphale looked around. From where he stood, there wasn’t much Gabriel could do to him. It was just the two of them now, an Archangel and a Principality. Sure, Gabriel may have the upper hand when it came to angelic rank, but Aziraphale had been built to guard and protect and fight. He was not beyond using this sword to take down his opposition. Not now, not when he had nothing else left to lose.

“I’m going home,” the angel announced. “I’m going back to my bookshop and I don’t want to ever be bothered by you or any of your stooges again.”

His heart broke inside his chest, but Aziraphale refused to let the pain shine through. He would not give Gabriel that satisfaction. No, the angel would hold himself together here, and then, only once he was safe inside the sanctuary of his bookshop, would Aziraphale finally allow himself to break down.

Crowley wasn’t here. Crowley was gone. Crowley was never coming back.

Gabriel smiled, as if he could sense Aziraphale’s discomfort. “By all means,” he began, taking a single step to the side. “I’d love to see you try.”

What the hell did that even mean? Aziraphale didn’t need this angel’s _permission_ to go back to London. Gabriel may be in charge of all of Heaven, Gabriel could _have_ all of Heaven, for all he cared, but Aziraphale’s bookshop belonged to him and him alone. 

“Bugger off,” the angel growled, taking a step forward to exit the cave. He could just miracle himself back to the bookshop, but Aziraphale wasn’t quite sure he was ready to return home just yet. So many emotions were swirling around inside him, like a tempest or a hurricane. He needed to calm himself down a bit first, lest he destroy everything within a mile radius of the Soho bookshop he used to call home.

As his foot made contact with the sunbathed surface, Aziraphale felt it come up against some resistance at the tips of his toes. He reached a hand forward, pressing it up vertically against the air between him and the archangel, fingertips brushing against some kind of invisible barrier that had not been present before.

“What have you done?” Aziraphale asked, darkly, his blue eyes rising to meet cold, violet ones. Gabriel simply looked down at him, a false expression of sympathy on his face.

“You’ve become too dangerous, Aziraphale,” the Archangel explained. “Too unpredictable. We were forced to take matters into our own hands.”

Fury coursed through him. “You can’t do this!” Aziraphale cried, slamming his fist against the invisible barrier. He watched with wide eyes as the air shimmered around the contact, but did not bend to his will. “Let me out.”

Again, Gabriel was silent, his hands folded neatly in front of him, looking down at him with a barely held back smile. Shadows burst outward from Aziraphale’s body as his sword burned ever brighter. Without warning, the Principality lunged, sword shooting out from his side, directly toward the Archangel’s chest.

It hit the barrier with a crackle of energy, sending down a shower of sparks in a great arc on either side of the sword. Aziraphale cried out in pain as energy shot up his arm, but he did not release his grip. He forced the blade forward with all his might, picturing how easy it had been to cut through the stone doors of Hell, willing this barrier to fall just as easily.

“Don’t bother,” Gabriel said when Aziraphale finally pulled the sword away, panting heavily from his exertion. “We’ve made certain you won’t be able to get out. It took a lot of effort on our part to lure you here, Aziraphale. Seems like it would be a waste of our time if you could simply cut your way through it.

Aziraphale said nothing. He wouldn’t have known what to say even if he could have gotten the words out. Anger and rage and pain flowed through his entire body. The shadows dancing off his skin lashed outward and the barrier, sparking each time they came into contact.

Gabriel smiled and took a step back, his white wings unfurling beneath the hot sun. His violet gaze locked on Aziraphale’s once more as the Archangel opened his mouth to say the last words Aziraphale would hear for a very long time.

“Enjoy eternity, Aziraphale.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope none of you thought the reunion was happening in this chapter...we've still got a few more heart-wrenching ones left to go before our favorite angel and demon find each other again. 
> 
> On Friday, follow Crowley into the Arabian Desert as he tries to locate his angel. We're getting close to the end of Lei_sam's comic, folks! We've got a few chapters planned to extend the story further after that, but I'm sad to say this story is on it's way toward the end (it will be a happy ending, though, so at least you'll have that to look forward to!)
> 
> Thank you all for the comments so far in this story. I've really enjoyed reading all of your thoughts and I wanted you to know you are all very much appreciated :)


	22. Chapter 20

The strength of the hot, desert air nearly knocked the wind from Crowley’s lungs as he materialized in the middle of the Arabian Desert. Wind howled against his face, tossing tiny particles of sand into the air that scraped at his skin and made him want to snap his fingers together and vanish himself from this place for good.

Instead, Crowley conjured up a cloak for himself, securing the hood tightly around his face before he chanced a glance around, trying to figure out why this weather was so horrid when he should have at least have been surrounded by some sort of shelter. All this wind and sand made sense if he’d miracled himself out in the open, but doing so would have required him to walk. Even a quarter mile in such an environment was more than a little bit inconvenient, so Crowley had opted for the most direct course of action.

“What the - ?” Crowley began, looking around him in every direction, trying to figure out just where he’d gone wrong. According to the map he’d so carefully tucked away inside his vest, Crowley should have ended up in a small village just west of the Euphrates river. Maybe he was mistaken, but the last time he’d checked, villages were usually comprised of things like  _ buildings _ . Big, rectangular things, with thatched roofs and windows on the side. Perhaps even a door or two to walk through. 

As far as his demon eyes could see, there was no sign of anything fitting that description for miles. No buildings, no roofs, no roads leading toward or away from anything. 

Out here there was only sand.

“This is ridiculous,” the demon grumbled as he reached for the map, clinging onto it as the wind whipped back and forth, threatening to tear the old parchment in two. Looking around one last time and deciding that he was unquestionably alone, Crowley extended his wings and wrapped them around himself, leaving a small sliver of an opening for the sunlight to beam through, illuminating the paper now sitting gently between his fingers.

Now, just where the hell was he? It was obvious he hadn’t ended up in that village as he’d intended. But why? Was Crowley standing in the right geographical location and the place just didn’t exist anymore? Or had he somehow miracled himself to the wrong place?

Another gust of wind blew through the open desert, slamming into the back of the demon’s wings. Crowley took a stumbling step forward as he miracled the parchment back into the safety of his pocket. A light tingle of energy shot up his leg and understanding nearly knocked the breath out of his lungs.

“Is this some kind of  _ game _ to you?” the demon yelled at the sky as he tugged his great black wings closer to the center of his body to avoid being toppled completely over onto his face. “Ha. Ha. Let’s all watch as the silly little demon wanders around for a  _ bloody century _ looking for the one being on this planet his black little heart cares about.” Crowley took a deep breath and blinked the tears from his eyes. “Now that he’s escaped the clutches of Hell, let’s stick him in a desert infested with  _ holy land _ . Oh, he’ll  _ really _ enjoy that.”

Heat coursed through his veins as the demon glanced upward at the bright blue sky overhead. “Why are you doing this? Why do you continually try and keep me from him? What is so bad about the two of us being friends, huh? What is so  _ wrong _ about wanting to be in each other’s lives?”

Silence was the only thing that greeted him. Silence except for the soft howl of the wind that was continually whirling around him.

“You’re the one who put us here!” Crowley continued to shout, letting all his rage and hurt bubble to the surface. He felt the sudden urge to smash something against the floor - a vase or a plate or something else valuable and very breakable - and felt another wave of frustration course through his body as he realized that doing so would be impossible in this situation. “You’re the one who kicked us all out. You’re the one who had him assigned to Earth. If you’re so all-knowing, you had to have seen us on that blasted wall. You had to have seen every bloody meeting for the past six thousand years! You  _ know _ how we feel about each other, after all this time.”

Crowley paused and swung his foot hard, kicking up a wave of sand that was whisked away in the blink of an eye. “Don’t  _ do _ this to him,” the demon croaked, his voice catching in his throat as his battered heart ached inside his chest. “I get that I deserve it. I’m a demon, I’m unforgivable, blah blah blah. I’m not asking you for  _ my _ sake. I’m asking for his.”

A single tear pooled in the demon’s amber eyes, creeping out the corner and down his left cheek. Crowley hastily wiped it away. 

“He’s the best damn thing in the entire universe,” he admitted softly, knowing that She could hear him, if She chose to. “The best thing you’ve ever created. He doesn’t deserve this.” Crowley was no fool. He knew that he was all Aziraphale had left after the events of Armageddon. He knew that Aziraphale would never be welcomed back into Heaven. He knew that Aziraphale didn’t  _ want _ to go back to Heaven. The angel liked living on Earth. He liked living in London. He liked his bookshop and his restaurants and his nights out at the theater. Aziraphale liked all of those things, but most of all he liked those things because he was permitted to experience them with Crowley by his side.

“Please don’t make him be alone anymore,” the demon whispered, the closest thing he’d come to a prayer in a very long time. “Please, he deserves to be happy. Won’t you let him be happy?”

Like always, no reply came.

“Fine,” Crowley muttered, taking off in a completely different direction. Now that he was paying attention, he could feel the slight shift of energies around him. Crowley could tell where the holy ground was, could tell which places to avoid as he walked through the desert, not really sure where he should be going, hoping he would run across a collection of humans sometime soon, so he could ask them what they knew. “I’ll do it myself. I don’t need your help. I never have.”

Afternoon turned to evening turned to nightfall. The blue sky above remained so for several hours before slowly turning into a brilliant gold, followed by orange, followed by crimson, until the only colors left were the deep navy of the vast expanse of the universe, dotted with clusters of tiny white stars that Crowley knew to be so much bigger than anyone here on Earth could ever comprehend. 

The stars, in particular, were extraordinarily bright tonight. Crowley didn’t know if it was because of the hot, dry air, the lack of light pollution, or the loneliness that crept in between each molecule in his body. But as he looked up at the night sky, the demon was reminded of a gentler time. He was reminded of hands that shaped galaxies and painting the nebulae across the vast canvas of nothingness. He’d created some of those stars, although he rarely talked to anyone about it.

Was that something he should have told Aziraphale? If nothing else, they were friends. Was that the sort of thing Aziraphale would want to know? Crowley found himself wishing he was back in England with the angel by his side. They could go on that picnic, like Aziraphale had suggested once from within the walls of the Bentley. They could set a blanket down on the cool grass and sit side by side, Crowley pointing out which of the constellations had been his doing, Aziraphale detailing one useless fact after another that some human astronomer had made up about those same stars several thousand years ago when the world was new.

They would talk well into the night, perhaps even until morning, when the sun rose above the treetops. Crowley would pack up their basket and blanket and drive them back to the city and, naturally, Aziraphale would request to be taken out to brunch.

Crowley would happily oblige.

Heaven, he  _ missed _ Aziraphale. Now that Crowley was no longer trapped in Hell, running for his life, he felt like his heart was shattering into a million pieces. How was it possible to miss someone this much? He had gone actual centuries without seeing hide nor hair of the angel and been fine. Sure, it had been unpleasant. Yes, the times when Aziraphale was nearby were always more fun. But he’d never hurt this much before.

What had changed?

_ Crowley, my dear, would you allow me to take you out on a date tomorrow night? _

Was that it? Their dynamic had changed since Armageddon had been averted. They’d become friends. Crowley had always asserted that they’d been friends long before 2019, but Aziraphale had finally come around to the idea. They’d spent six months doing just that - being friends, out in the open. No hiding, no secret meetups at the park. They had been free to just be themselves, and then, that fateful day by the pond, Aziraphale had asked him that question, and Crowley’s most tightly held dreams had come true.

Was this why his heart ached so whenever he thought of the angel? Because there finally might be something between them? Something other than a millennia old Agreement between an angel and a demon. Did he dare to hope Aziraphale might hold an ounce of the feelings Crowley had been lugging around since Eden? Did his heart feel like it was constantly ripping apart in his chest because Crowley finally believed his angel might see him as more than just a friend?

He may never know. That thought probably hurt most of all.

Crowley was not tired. He refused to be tired. Refused to believe that legs that had walked hundreds of thousands of miles across every corner of this planet could feel such a thing as fatigue, not when their continued motion would bring him closer to the one thing he wanted more than anything else in the whole world. The demon was determined to walk for a hundred years straight, or more. He would walk for six thousand years if doing so meant he could see his angel again.

Still, after some time, the demon grew weary. Physically, he could have walked like this for an eternity. It was not his legs that gave way that night, as the moon hung high above in the sky and the stars sparkled continuously with wonder. Instead, it was the ever-present ache in Crowley’s chest. The way the light from the moon spilled across the sand and made him think of being tucked safely under a wide white wing, made him think of rolling waves and stormy seas as the entire world was tossed about for forty days. Made him think of various moments throughout all of history. Moments with Aziraphale,  _ always _ Aziraphale. 

With a sharp snap of his finger, echoing for miles in the silent desert air, a single tent appeared and the demon collapsed against it, burying his face in his hands. Tears pooled in his eyes, and Crowley fought them back, gritting his teeth as he tried to think of something positive. Something good. No matter how hard he tried, his thoughts always returned to his angel.

Where was Aziraphale? What was the angel doing out here? From the little bit of information Crowley had been able to gather, his angel hadn’t been seen in London in nearly thirty years. What could have prompted Aziraphale to come all the way out here? There was nothing out here. No second-hand bookshops where he could track down his precious first editions. No exquisite fine dining where he could sample everything on the menu, wiggling excitedly in his seat with each new bite. 

There was no reason for him to be out here. No reason, except one.

_ Did he come here looking for me? Is this all my fault? _

“Please.” The whisper echoed around him, and for a moment, Crowley did not recognize the voice. “Please.” The second word came and he realized it was his own. The demon had no idea who he was talking to - himself, Aziraphale, the vast, empty sky above. Ultimately it didn’t matter. No one was there. No one was listening.

Humanity, at least some of them, believed in an all-knowing God. They believed that when people came together in prayer, miraculous things were known to happen. They believed in the ultimate goodness in bearing their souls to the Almighty in the hopes that She might take the time to listen to their tiny problems.

It was ridiculousness. All of it. And yet...

What did he really have to lose?

“Listen,” Crowley began, pulling himself up into a sitting position as he glanced upward at the stars above. “I know I yelled at you earlier, and I probably should apologize for that, but I doubt you’d even be listening.” The demon paused, heart inexplicably thrumming in his chest, as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. Why was he so nervous all of a sudden. It wasn’t as if She cared enough to listen to him, did She?

“I know I’m just a demon,” he admitted, the words slipping out like bitter roots against his tongue. “I know I’m unforgivable, that I don’t deserve happiness. That - ” for the second time that day, his voice broke as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. “That I deserve to slither around on my stomach and eat dust for the rest of my life and all that, but Aziraphale  _ doesn’t. _ ”

Crowley took in a deep shuddering breath, trying to steady his nerves. “Aziraphale is everything  _ good _ in this entire universe. He’s kind, and thoughtful. He cares, he really  _ cares _ , you know? About humanity, about the planet. About the good things about life - the tiny little restaurants where they know your name and curling up with a good book and a cup of hot cocoa. Heaven may have turned their back on him, but I think you and I both know he’s everything that they should have been and more.”

“Help me find him,” Crowley pleaded, bringing his trembling hands to clasp together in front of him. “Help me make sure he’s ok. Help me bring him home and I’ll never ask you for anything ever again. I’ll even leave him alone after that, if that’s what you want.” He was bargaining now. Crowley knew it and he didn’t care. He knew he couldn’t willingly leave Aziraphale’s side - didn’t know how to live without the angel - but it didn’t matter. Whatever he needed to do to make sure Aziraphale was safe, Crowley would do. 

“Give me a sign, a push in the right direction,  _ something _ .” What else could he ask for? What else could he say? “Show me how to find him, please. I’ll do anything.  _ Please _ . I need your help - ” a sob broke through from his chest, and for once, the demon did not try to hold back his tears. He let them fall like rain, landing softly against the parched desert floor at his feet. 

“I can’t do this all alone.”

Crowley didn’t believe in the power of prayer. Crowley didn’t believe that God was listening. Crowley didn’t believe that anything he said that night would change the reality of his situation. But still knowing that, the demon allowed himself to pray. Crowley prayed and prayed. He prayed until his throat became raw. He prayed until the tremble in his hands became a mild twitch. He prayed until the tears flowed from his eyes and dripped down his chin, splashing against his chest where his heart was currently aching so much he was sure it was seconds away from crumbling into nothing. Crowley prayed like no human or demon or angel on Earth or anywhere else had ever prayed before.

And when the words no longer came, when the tears dried up and the trembling in his hands faded to nothingness, when the silence all around him grew to a roar and no answer could be heard above it all, the demon bowed his head and was silent.

There was no answer. There never had been and there never would be. Aziraphale was lost. Crowley could wander this desert for an eternity and never find his angel. He was too late. He hadn’t been careful enough, hadn’t protected himself from the danger he should have been aware of. He hadn’t been smart enough, had taken too long to get home and now there was no place to come home to. Crowley had no home without Aziraphale. It had been the both of them against the world from the beginning, whether the angel had known it at the time or not. It had been the both of them together facing down Armageddon and the both of them together after. There was no Crowley without Aziraphale.

Without Aziraphale, Crowley was completely and totally lost.

_ Are you out there? _ Crowley found his heart crying out as he buried his head deeper beneath his arms and knees, trying his very best to block out all the light surrounding him. What right did the sky have to be so beautiful when Aziraphale wasn’t here to see it with him? What right did the stars he created have to shine so brilliantly when he was so broken inside?  _ Are you thinking about me too? Are you wondering where I am? _

The light around him pulsed brighter and Crowley sat up, angrily wiping the remaining moisture from his eyes as he glared up at the stars, prepared to tell them off for daring to disturb him in what was without a doubt, the darkest moment of Crowley’s entire life.

Instead of the twinkling lights of galaxies far away, the demon found himself face to face with the brightest light he had ever seen. It took up nearly half of the night sky, drowning out the moon and all the stars around it, pulsing with a white hot light that touched every corner of Crowley’s exposed skin. He drank it in, sighing with relief as the light seeped in though every pore, filling the hollow, aching emptiness that had been with him for the past eighty years. Perhaps even longer.

There was some sound at the edge of his hearing, rising above the deafening silence that had clung to him since he’d arrived in the desert. Crowley couldn’t make out the words, but the voice sounded familiar. It was warm and soothing and tugged the corners of his mouth upward in the briefest, gentlest of smiles. 

Ultimately, it wasn’t a voice that greeted him as Crowley gazed unblinkingly at that bright white light, not one that he heard and understood with his ears. It was more of a feeling - a certainty resonating within every molecule of Crowley’s being, begging him not to lose faith. Urging him onward. Calling him home.

_ Go into the heart of the desert. There, you will find what your soul has been searching for. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, you're writing a scene and the perfect song starts to play in the background. For anyone who is curious, I listened to "Wherever You Are" from the movie Pooh's Grand Adventure on repeat while composing this for you. Who knew a Winnie the Pooh song could make me cry so much?
> 
> Happy Friday! I know you all have been waiting all week for this update. I know they're not together yet, but we're getting so close! Just a few more chapters until we reach the end of Lei_Sam's comic and a handful after that to tie things up. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for your comments earlier this week :) I am so happy everyone is enjoying this story so much. I cannot wait to share the rest of it with you <3
> 
> See you back here on Tuesday!


	23. Chapter 21

The first time the impostor Crowley reappeared, Aziraphale wasted no time in running it through with his blade. It appeared in a far-off corner of the cave, hidden in the shadows where even the harsh sunlight of the desert couldn’t penetrate. Even still, Aziraphale spotted the figure in an instant, fury sparking outward from his heart, down his arms to the tips of his fingers, igniting the sword resting in his hands as he crossed the space between them in an instant.

“Get out,” Aziraphale growled, ramming the end of his sword into the demon’s chest before the creature had a chance to get a word in edgewise. The tip of the blade struck the stone wall, burying itself several inches into the surface. Orange sparks leapt outward like fleas, hopping from one spot to another until they settled onto the ground with a soft hiss.

All the while, the impostor gazed over at Aziraphale with a smile, blank eyes hidden behind those infernal glasses.

“You’re not welcome here!” the angel shouted, the flames of his sword roaring to life, their light setting shadows dancing across the surfaces around them. Still, Crowley did not react. It was as if the sword buried deep in his chest wasn’t even there. 

“GO AWAY!” Aziraphale roared, sweeping the blade in several quick arcs through the demon’s body. The sword in his hand burned white, nearly blinding him as he swung it back and forth, back and forth. It cut through the creature like a fine mist, and at the end of it all, when Aziraphale had lowered his blade, chest heaving, sweat pooling on his brow, the false Crowley was still standing, an amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Leave me alone,” the angel sobbed, finally closing his eyes and bowing his head. All around him, the shadows were returning, slowly creeping back in as the brilliant glow from his sword faded away bit by bit. “Please, just let me be.”

When the inferno of his rage had burst completely away, leaving Aziraphale smoldering with smoke and shadows, the impostor was still there, and the angel knew he had to give up. This thing, whatever it was - it wasn’t real. Gabriel had been right. He didn’t know if it was some kind of spectral being left behind by the Archangels to torture him, or some manifestation of his own guilt, or something else entirely. All Aziraphale knew was there was nothing he could do to get rid of it.

For a while, he simply chose to ignore it, standing by the great wide opening of the cavern as he watched time march on. After a while of watching the sun sink into the sand over and over and over again, Aziraphale grew bored. He tried talking to the creature, probing it to see if it knew a way out of here. A way to break the seal. A way to dig himself out or miracle himself away from this terrible place forever. 

The seal Gabriel had placed on the outside of the cave was what kept him from walking out, but it was the holy ground beneath his feet that truly trapped Aziraphale. One would think that a holy place would give an angel more power, but such a place had the opposite effect on Aziraphale. It felt like he was standing amidst a vast electrical field. The current of holy energy didn’t hurt him, not at all, but it certainly seemed to interfere with the flow of energy within his own body. Like an electromagnetic field interfere with present day technology, so too did this field of holy energy interfere with the angel’s ability to perform miracles. The sword was all he had, and it was useless to help him break free of his confines.

Eventually, after days or weeks or months or even years had passed by, Aziraphale gave up the fight completely. There was no point anymore. He was trapped in here, with this illusory figure, for the rest of time. There was no way out - he’d tried every which way to escape this prison. He’d tried cutting through the barrier, digging out through the walls or the floor, miracling himself away, flying deeper into the cave, looking for an alternate route. No matter what idea Aziraphale came up with, he found himself trapped and alone.

He took to talking to the creature, not to gain information anymore, but just for something to do. Not everyday, but sometimes when a thought would surface in his mind, Aziraphale would voice it aloud, hoping the figure might respond. Aziraphale knew it wasn’t Crowley. That much was obvious. But this being was the only company he had. And talking to it alleviated the overwhelming ache inside his empty chest, at least, for a little while. Aziraphale knew it didn’t make sense, but it was all he had left.

“Why can’t I see your eyes?” Aziraphale voice rang out through the cavern one night, reverberating off the high stone ceiling above. Outside, the stars shone brightly in the midnight sky, forming all sorts of patterns that could be seen for miles and miles. “I see everything else about you. Why won’t you let me see your eyes?”

The Crowley figure did not respond, just as Aziraphale had expected. The demon or apparition or whatever he was hadn’t spoken in all this time, not since the very first day Aziraphale had been trapped. The angel was beginning to think he was imagining the whole thing, that this creature, this  _ imitation _ of his beloved Crowley was just a figment of his own imagination. 

But if that was the case, why couldn’t he see Crowley’s eyes?

_ You don’t remember them _ . The thought entered his mind so softly and so suddenly, that Aziraphale lurched forward where he stood, catching himself roughly on the wall.  _ No.  _ It couldn’t be true. He couldn’t - he wouldn’t forget Crowley’s eyes. Not those beautiful golden eyes. They were one of his favorite things about Crowley. Aziraphale wouldn’t forget them. 

Were they gold in color? Or perhaps more of an amber? A honey colored shade? Aziraphale could feel his breaths quickening in his chest as he forced himself to think back. Back to a park and a bench and a demon and angel sitting side by side. Was that the last time he’d seen Crowley’s eyes? As he’d held the demon’s hands between his own and asked Crowley on a date? Was that the last time he’d seen his friend smile?

“Oh, my dear,” Aziraphale breathed into the empty space around him, trying desperately not to look at the figure dressed in black leaning up against the opposite wall, hands casually tucked into his pockets, a sly grin on his face. The angel buried his face into his hands, feeling moisture slide down the skin of his cheeks as the tears refused to be held back. “Crowley, love, I’m so sorry.”

He  _ had _ forgotten. Try as he might, Aziraphale couldn’t picture Crowley’s eyes. He couldn’t picture Crowley’s smile - not the sly, serpentine grin he was known for, but the soft gentle smile that lit up his face whenever the demon found himself looking at Aziraphale.

The angel couldn’t remember either of them. 

“I’ve forgotten you,” the sob ripped from Aziraphale’s chest as he fell to his knees against the rough stone floor. He could feel the tingle of holy energy always around him, but the angel ignored it, too preoccupied with his own grief to care. “I’ve  _ forgotten  _ you.”

No. This couldn’t be right. Aziraphale couldn’t have forgotten Crowley. Not really. He’d been through a lot, that was all. He was stressed and tired and under a lot of pressure. That was why he couldn’t remember Crowley’s eyes. If Aziraphale could just get himself back to the bookshop, he would remember, wouldn’t he? 

Oh, how he wished he had something he could miracle up to jog his memory. A painting or a photograph, something of Crowley’s likeness that Aziraphale could hold close to his heart. Something that he could look at and assure himself that he  _ hadn’t  _ forgotten his precious demon’s face. That he  _ wasn’t _ losing everything he ever cared about. Something that would remind him that there was still hope. Things were going to be ok eventually. He just had to have a little faith. 

Unfortunately for him, there was no such item. It didn’t exist. He and Crowley were immortal beings. Having photographs lying with the two of them was only asking for trouble. Humans were curious creatures, often asking questions when things were better left alone. All it would take was one of them smart enough to link a century old photograph to the two men shaped beings still alive today in order to cause them both a world of trouble. Miracles would fix the situation, of course, but it made everyone’s lives easier to just avoid such an event altogether.

Even if there were such a photograph in existence, it wouldn’t matter. Aziraphale had no way to retrieve it. Not here, trapped in this miracle-less cavern out in the middle of nowhere. 

A single tear rolled down the angel’s cheek as his heart once again crumbled inside his chest. How much more of this could he take? How many times could his heart be broken and put back together again? How much pain did he have to endure before he simply faded away into nothingness?

Aziraphale had been alone once, all the way from 1862 until moments before a bomb had dropped in the place he’d been standing, nearly discorporating him in a most violent way. It had been absolutely devastating for the first few years, in the time when he hadn’t known where Crowley had gone. When he had feared the demon had taken it upon himself to find what Aziraphale refused to give him. When the angel hadn’t been able to locate his friend - hadn’t been able to sense his presence.

Once he discovered Crowley’s whereabouts and confirmed that the demon was in no immediate danger, the panic had faded into a soft ache inside of him. An ache that grew stronger whenever he passed by a flock of ducks in the park or was offered a sample of chocolate at a restaurant or any of the other daily activities that reminded him of Crowly. That ache had permeated throughout the decades, only growing stronger as time passed on, until the demon had finally made himself known, just in time to save one naive angel and his bag of precious books.

This was worse. This was so much worse than Crowley’s near-century long nap. Back then, Aziraphale had been lonely. He had been left all alone, but at least he’d known Crowley was not hurt. At least he’d known that someday, the demon might wake up. At least then, he’d known that Crowley might someday come back to him.

Now? Well, now it was pointless. Hopeless. Crowley was never coming back.

Aziraphale took to standing by the cave opening for a while. The inside of the cave never changed. He could spend days or weeks lost in his thoughts staring at those shadowy walls and have no idea how much time had passed. At least when Aziraphale turned his gaze to the outside world, he had something still there, tying him to reality. He didn’t bother keeping track of the number of days. That would be pointless. At first, he’d tried, but after reaching a thousand, the angel lost the desire.

What was the point in reminding himself he’d be trapped in here for eternity?

_ Do you know what eternity is? Do you  _ know _ what eternity is? There’s this big mountain, you see, a mile high, at the end of the universe... _

A ghost of a smile appeared on Aziraphale’s face as he remembered that fateful conversation so many years ago. He may not be able to see Crowley’s eyes in his mind, but the angel could still hear his beloved’s voice.

_ Well, that went down like a lead balloon. _

The first time Crowley had appeared by his side, Aziraphale had been startled. Surprised, but not afraid. There was something about the demon, a curiousness that had intrigued Aziraphale. He’d continued to talk to Crowley on that garden wall mostly out of politeness, but he’d be lying if he said there wasn’t a small part of him that wanted to get to know this curious creature that had slithered up beside him. 

_ Oh, you’re an angel. I don’t think you can do the wrong thing. _

That was the first evidence of kindness Aziraphale had seen on Earth. In the time since he’d been placed on the planet, Aziraphale had witnessed temptation and shame and anger as Adam and Eve had been driven from paradise. He’d felt bad for them, worried for their safety as they made their way out into the wastelands. The angel hadn’t given a second thought to giving his sword away, not at first. Not until the humans were miles away and he’d been left entirely alone.

Crowley had comforted him. Crowley had said what Aziraphale had needed to hear to calm himself down. The words had been a lie - he knew now that angels were very capable of doing the wrong thing. But they had come from a place of kindness. Of caring. Of tentative companionship.

_ Kids? You can’t kill kids! _

Crowley questioned the Great Plan often, there was no contending that. According to him, that had been the reason he’d Fallen from Heaven. Aziraphale had never been brave enough to ask Crowley what had happened that fateful day. It seemed like such a personal question, one that would bring up too many painful memories. The angel loved Crowley - loved the demon with all of his heart. Causing Crowley pain was the last thing Aziraphale wanted to do.

_ What else am I going to be, and aardvark? _

At the time, the remark had made him uncomfortable. Even then, Aziraphale had been terrified of upsetting the one being on Earth who remained a constant in his ever-changing world. The angel was unable to admit what they were back then, but he and Crowley had become friends somehow, over the years. As early as Rome, Aziraphale had realized he enjoyed spending time with the demon, and he actively sought Crowley out whenever he had the opportunity.

_ Alright, this one’s my treat. _

They’d come up with The Arrangement after several thousand years living on Earth. It had simultaneously been the most wonderful and most terrifying thing that had ever happened to Aziraphale. Having The Arrangement had allowed Aziraphale to spend more time with the demon he wouldn’t yet let himself call a friend. Those days he spent with Crowley, going over notes, having lunches together, swapping off tasks - they had been some of the happiest of the angel’s existence. It was a wonder he hadn’t realized then just how much Crowley meant to him.

_ Well, you’re lucky I was in the area.  _

This hadn’t been the first time Crowley had come to his rescue, and it most certainly wouldn't be the last. Sometimes, Aziraphale wondered if the demon had a sixth sense attuned just to him. How else would he know whenever Aziraphale had gotten himself into trouble? This was the aspect of their friendship that had initially convinced the angel that Crowley was still alive, somewhere. Surely, after six-thousand years together, their bond was a strong one. Surely, if Crowley knew when Aziraphale was in danger, the angel would have that same sort of sense. If something truly bad had happened, Aziraphale would know.

Except, something bad had happened. Crowley had been taken from him, and Aziraphale had done nothing to try and save his demon. How could he, when he hadn’t known anything was wrong?

_ Ducks have ears. Do ducks have ears? _

It was amazing how quickly everything could change. Over the course of one afternoon, Aziraphale lost his best friend for decades. Sure, in the past, Aziraphale had gone over a century without seeing the demon at all. But somewhere, sometime, things had changed. He had grown used to having Crowley in his life. The demon’s absence had caused an ache in Aziraphale’s heart unlike any other he’d ever felt, until now.

_ Lift home? _

And just like that, Crowley was back in his life and Aziraphale was head over heels in love. It was as wonderful as it was terrifying. Aziraphale had never been in love before, not like this. Not in the very overwhelming, all-encompassing human way. Not in the way that poets wrote sonnets about and singers sang ballads for. He hadn’t known what to do with the feelings that had blossomed inside him that night, so Aziraphale had shut them all away. It was safer for the both of them if he pretended they didn’t exist. They were an angel and a demon. Hereditary enemies. On opposite sides. They weren’t supposed to form an arrangement. They weren’t supposed to be friends. They weren’t supposed to fall in love.

_ I’ll give you a lift, anywhere you want to go. _

Oh, how Aziraphale had wanted to go. He wanted to go anywhere Crowley would have taken him, but he was afraid. So afraid of what Hell might do to this precious creature if they found out he’d been fraternizing with an angel. If Heaven or Hell found out that Aziraphale cared for Crowley, even just as a friend, they could take Crowley away from him forever. 

_ I lost my best friend. Your bookshop, it burned down. You can stay at my place, if you’d like. _

The end of the world had come and they’d lost everything. The bookshop, the Bentley, each other - for a while. And then Adam had put it all back together again. They’d fooled Heaven and Hell. They’d come out the other side alive and in one piece.

_ And if you weren’t, deep down, just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing.  _

For the first time in his life, Aziraphale had been free to just  _ be.  _ He’d been free to be happy, and he  _ had _ been happy, for what it was worth. For six short months, he’d had everything he’d ever wanted. He’d had his bookshop, his fancy meals, his long walks in the park, and his faithful demon there by his side.

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale sighed, blue eyes gazing off at the corner of the cavern wall. The impostor Crowley was gone now. He’d been gone for some time. Aziraphale didn’t know exactly when it had been. There hadn’t been a singular moment where he’d turned his head away from the desert landscape and noticed the being had suddenly vanished. It was almost as if he’d slowly faded away, just as Aziraphale felt himself doing the same.

“I miss you so much, my dear,” he whispered into the empty cave. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t find you. I  _ tried _ Crowley, my dearest. My love. I tried as hard as I could.” Aziraphale took a deep breath and settled himself into a comfortable standing position, eyes fixed sightlessly on the wall in front of him, sword dangling gently at his side. He was going to be here a while – forever, in fact, at least until the real end of the world decided to start. Might as well get comfortable.

_ “There’s this big mountain, you see, a mile high, at the end of the universe, and every thousand years, there’s this little bird…” _

The only thing left to do now was to wait for eternity to finally get here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These last few chapters have been slowly breaking my heart into little tiny pieces, but I swear, they're going to be happy again. We are so close, everyone. Two more chapters until the end of the comic and then a handful afterward to tie up some loose ends.
> 
> Thanks to you all for sticking with me for this story and for each and every comment and kudo you've left. They are the reason I keep writing :) (that, and I promised Lei_sam I would finish, haha).
> 
> Stick around for Friday's chapter as Crowley follows the voice he heard into the desert, looking for any sign of his angel!
> 
> Until then, I hope you all have a fabulous week <3
> 
> P.S. I couldn't resist slipping in just a little bit of the bird and the mountain. It is my favorite quote from the book. I was so sad when that exchange didn't make it into the tv show, so anytime I have a way to use it, I do!


	24. Chapter 22

Crowley blinked, shutting his eyes almost immediately as a bright, hot light beamed down onto his face. He groaned, licking at his lips to banish the dry feeling that had formed over them. Suddenly, the demon found himself sitting up, spitting out particles of sand that had snuck their way into his mouth. Amber eyes flew open wide to find that the blasted substance had made their way into every crevice of his clothing, turning the black fabric brown with dust.

For a moment, the demon didn’t know where he was. The sky was bright overhead, much brighter than it had any right to be. Hadn’t he been stuck in Hell for the past who knew how long? How had he ended up here? In the middle of what appeared to be some kind of desert?

It all came flooding back to him in one giant wave, crashing into the demon like a storm upon the rocky shore. He’d  _ escaped _ . He wasn’t in Hell anymore. He’d traveled to London, to his flat with the garden Aziraphale had left for him, to the bookshop that had been abandoned for decades. He’d miracled himself out here in the middle of nowhere, following a map left behind in the hopes that such an artifact might lead him to his angel.

He’d wandered the desert all day, finally collapsing with grief and despair as the stars shone brightly overhead. There had been a light - a voice – there in the vast expanse of the desert. Someone,  _ something,  _ answering his deepest, most desperate prayers.

_ Go into the heart of the desert. There, you will find what your soul has been searching for. _

Had it all been a dream? Or had She really answered him? Was She leading Crowley back to his angel? Or was this another part of some elaborate trap?

Eventually, the demon decided it didn’t matter. He had nothing else to go on. No other lead to follow. The only thing left to do was continue on, pointing himself toward the West, with the sun at his back, and hope for the best.

The sun was hot, the sand sticky against his sweat-laden skin, but Crowley trudged on. This was no time to delay. No time to give up. He had to find Aziraphale. Who knows what could have happened to him, being trapped in the desert all this time? The worst part about this whole situation was the time. For Crowley, he’d only been apart from his angel for a couple of weeks. For Aziraphale, eighty years had gone by. Eighty years of not knowing what had happened to Crowley, of not knowing where he had gone or when he would be back. Crowley had been through literal Hell and back since the moment of his discorporation, but Aziraphale had suffered just as much pain. He was sure of it. 

Relief flooded the demon when he finally crested the next hill to find a small desert town on the horizon. Not wanting to waste another moment, Crowley lifted his hand and snapped his fingers, instantly materializing himself in the middle of the central street, forcing everyone’s attention away from the demon that had just appeared in their midst . Now was not the best time to be calling attention to his occult nature.

He had an angel to go rescue. 

Right. Now that he’d made it somewhere that actually might matter, what exactly was Crowley supposed to do? If Aziraphale had, in fact, been here before, it likely would have been thirty years ago. Wouldn’t it? As Crowley looked around the street, amber eyes shifting over forms of men and women dressed in long robes and scarves to block out the sun’s harsh rays, he wondered if any of them would be able to help him. Had any of them even been here when Aziraphale had come through? Would any of them remember him now, after all this time? Human lives were so fleeting. They had so much they had to pack into each finite day that went by. What were the chances they would remember a single angel passing by decades ago?

Should he just march up to them and start asking? Or would that scare them off? Crowley didn’t have the time or patience to weed through each individual in this tiny town. He didn’t have time to ask what they knew about an angel that may or may not look like a regular English person. An angel who had visited this area as long as thirty years ago.

If he even had the right area to begin with. If Aziraphale had even come here at all. So many ifs, and each second that ticked by made Crowley’s heart panic just a tiny bit more. 

He spotted a building a few hundred feet away. A bar, by the looks of it. The exterior was a bit run down, like a great majority of this town. Dirtied windows, faded signs, cracked and dried out wood. This whole place could use a bit of sprucing up, but Crowley certainly wasn’t going to be the one to do it. 

A bar seemed as good a place as any to try and find some answers.

Crowley stalked in, adding a bit of swagger to his hips as his boot struck the dusty wooden floor. Several heads turned his way, but no one approached him. Reaching up to secure the sunglasses on his face, the demon stepped forward, heading for the back table and a group of older looking men seated there.

“Listen up,” he began, miracling his words into a form they might understand. Crowley could have taken the time to do a bit of research - figure out just what blasted desert country he’d landed himself in, but quite frankly, he didn’t care. His heart was crying out to him to fly into the desert. To soar over the fast sea of sand and to his angel’s side, but he couldn’t. Not yet. Now when Crowley didn’t know where Aziraphale was.

“I’m looking for a friend of mine,” the demon continued as the men turned toward him, hands wrapped calmly around the drinks seated before them. “About my height. Pale, with blonde hair. Dresses like an Englishman from the 1800s. Have you seen him?”

One of the men, the closest one to Crowley right now, leaned in and smiled. It was harsh and hardly came close to touching his eyes. “What’s in it for us?”

A low, deep growl bubbled up from deep within Crowley’s chest. He didn’t have time for this nonsense. He needed to find Aziraphale! 

Quick, before the men could even blink, Crowley snapped his finger, pulling his sunglasses down to fix his amber gaze upon them.

“Where is he?” the demon asked again. “He’s an angel - great big white wings, curly blonde hair, bright blue eyes. You’d be hard pressed to forget a face like his here.”

“We don’t know,” they said in unison, dark brown eyes glossing over to reflect the dim light of the sun peeking in through the windows. One of the men continued while the others fell silent. “We haven’t seen anyone like him.” 

Crowley turned to the next group of people in the bar. And then the next. And the next. One after another, they told him the same thing. One question after another and Crowley felt his resolve slowly slipping away. Hours went by as the demon searched every nook and cranny of this town for evidence that he was on the right track. That he hadn’t just hit the final wall that would forever halt him in his quest to find Aziraphale and bring him home. 

This was hopeless. He was practically looking for a needle in a haystack. None of these people were going to know where his angel was. Crowley was wasting his time - time that apparently didn’t matter anymore. 

He was never going to see Aziraphale again.

“You heading out there in the desert?” a voice asked from behind him as he headed back toward the perimeter of the town. Crowley turned to find an older gentleman standing behind him, wearing a pair of off white pants and a light blue tunic. His dark brown eyes met Crowley’s, and for the briefest second, the demon feared this man could see right through him. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he continued, not phased in the slightest by Crowley’s non-committal grunt. “Or, at least, if you do, stay away from those mountains south of here. They’re infested with demons.”

Crowley snorted. Of all the ridiculous ways to waste his time. He was about three seconds from miracling himself away from this man when something the human said caught his attention.

“...well, one demon, I suppose. It’s still worse than having no demons out there, if you ask me. Strangest looking thing, people say. Big shadowy creature with piercing blue eyes and the widest, purest white wings you ever did see. At least, that’s what people say. I’ve never seen it, of course. Only fools venture out into that part of the desert. You’d do best to stay away.”

Preposterous. A demon, with white wings? Impossible. Demon’s didn’t have white wings, if they even had them at all. There weren’t any creatures in all of creation that had wings like that except - 

“What did you say?” Crowley breathed, heart lodging in his throat, willing his voice to carry the short distance that remained between him and the stranger.

The older man huffed, clearly upset at the thought Crowley hadn’t been listening to him the first time. “I  _ said _ you should steer clear of the desert south of here, fool.”

“No,” the demon growled, amber eyes flashing behind his dark lenses. “About the  _ wings _ .”

A pause. The human blinked, fixing his eyes on Crowley’s face and it was all the demon could do to keep himself from throttling the man in an attempt to force the words from his lips.

“The wings?” Crowley took in a deep breath and gritted his teeth, fists clenching at his side. The man took a hesitant step back. “They were big. And - and white.”

That was all he needed. 

Crowley took off before the human could say another word. With a snap of his fingers, he snagged the memory of himself from the man’s mind, not wanting to leave any reason for certain individuals to come after him. Hell wasn’t as much of a concern to Crowley, not anymore. But Heaven? Heaven was another story completely. No need to draw their attention to him by leaving behind evidence that he’d been here. Especially not evidence that suggested he’d unfurled his demonic wings in full sight of a human being. Which he most certainly had done, no question about it. 

And so, Crowley flew. Crowley spread his wide black wings and flew with all his might. He tore past one dune after the other, watching as his shadow swam across the grains of sand like a dolphin leaping through waves of ocean blue water. Slowly, his destination came into view, struggling to form itself through the haze of heat permeating the air all around.

Crowley squinted his eyes, the black shades of his glasses providing little relief against the desert ground. On the horizon, the demon could barely see the outline of a structure of rocks, jutting up against the skyline like jagged teeth piercing the sky. He banked to the right, angling his body toward the mountains, feeling his heart thudding away in his chest. 

This had to be it. Aziraphale was here, he could  _ feel  _ it. Crowley didn’t know if he was imagining things or if this was real, but he could  _ feel _ some kind of invisible force, drawing him in, leading him toward the mountains and whatever secrets lay within them.

There was no way for the demon to tell how much time had passed except for the sun’s slow crawl across the bright blue sky. He felt like he’d been flying for hours without any evidence he was closing the distance between him and his destination. How much longer did he have to go? Surely the mountains could only be a few miles away. Sweat pooled across his brow. His mouth was dry and dusty still from waking up that morning covered in sand, but Crowley didn’t care. He had only one thought on his mind.

He had to get to Aziraphale.

Finally, Crowley touched down just outside the mountains in front of a very large cave, feeling the tingling of energy flitting through the air as the demon settled into it. Crowley swore under his breath. Of course. Of course this place would be on holy ground. Would it be so difficult to let him catch a break for once? He’d been forcibly separated from Aziraphale for  _ eighty _ years now. Wasn’t that enough? Wasn’t it time for their suffering to come to an end?

The first thing Crowley noticed as he pulled in his wings, tucking them back into the alternate dimension where they belonged, was the carving upon the surface of the mountain. It was deep, and precise - an intricate swirling design that looked vaguely familiar, although Crowley couldn’t place where he’d seen it before. Nearly three feet in diameter, it was glaringly obvious to anyone who might be passing by close enough to peer into the innermost part of the cave.

What was this? Some kind of ward to prevent people from coming in? A seal to keep something locked up inside? It didn’t look like the seals Crowley had seen down in Hell. There was no glowing light, no hint of any occult power at all. At least, not any that was visible under the bright afternoon sun. 

Deciding that whatever this marking was, it didn’t have much of anything to do with him, Crowley turned his back on it. His eyes peered into the blackness of the wide cave standing before him, nearly a hundred feet high and at least half as wide. It gaped at him like a hungry beast lurking in the deepest depths of the ocean, waiting to gobble up unsuspecting fish as they swam by.

“Aziraphale?” he called out, voice echoing across the high ceiling and darkened walls. Crowley stepped gently over the threshold, feeling the tingle of holy energy coursing around his body. There was a difference, it turned out, between holy ground and consecrated ground. Crowley didn’t particularly understand the reasoning behind it. One of them was natural to the earth. Remnants of a long-forgotten age before serpents and gardens and forbidden fruits. Standing amongst holy ground was similar to standing in an electrical field. Crowley could feel the energy around him. He could feel it interfering with the demonic energy inside his own body, but it didn’t necessarily hurt him. It most definitely prevented him from performing any miracles, which is why the demon tended to avoid it altogether, but stepping onto holy ground didn’t cause him any pain.

The same could not be said for consecrated ground. Consecrated ground was dictated by humans. Often found in churches and temples, this was ground blessed by humans with the intent of warding off evil spirits. Consecrated ground burned. Like he’d once told Aziraphale, it was like walking along the beach with bare feet. On a hot summer’s day, with no relief in sight. Consecrated ground was designed to keep demons like him  _ out. _

Holy ground, while still inconvenient, was not. 

“Aziraphale, are you in here?” Slowly, the demon’s eyes adjusted to the darkness around him. It seemed to cling to the very walls, seeping into the stones like a viscous black sludge. 

There, several dozen feet in front of him, a figure stood upon the ledge. It was cloaked in darkness, tendrils of smoke and shadows spilling from its skin, swirling around a pair of broad white wings stretched out behind it like a canopy. Crowley froze, his eyes going wide behind the black lenses as the figure’s head slowly turned toward him, bright blue eyes flashing in the darkness.

For a moment, neither one of them moved, transfixed by the sight of the other after so many long years apart. Crowley’s heart leapt with joy as tears stung his eyes, a wide smile already tugging at the corner of his lips. This wasn’t the Aziraphale he remembered, not by a long shot, but there was no question in his mind that it was, in fact, his angel standing before him.

He’d done it. Crowley nearly sobbed with relief. He’d found Aziraphale. He’d found his angel! There was no way to know, just by looking at him, what had lead Aziraphale to this state. What had brought him to this cave, what had kept him here all this time. What the angel had been through to turn him into this shadow of a celestial being. To Crowley, none of that mattered. After all this time, he and Aziraphale were together again. Everything else he could deal with.  _ They _ could deal with, together. Everything else was going to be alright. Aziraphale was back in his life and Crowley was never going to let him go again.

In the blink of an eye, Aziraphale seemed to vanish before him, reappearing suddenly in front of the demon, mere feet away. Crowley’s heart climbed into his throat and he tried to cry out - tried to call out the angel’s name. Tried to express to Aziraphale just how much Crowley had missed him, but the words did not come. His gaze was transfixed on the blindingly bright blue eyes, black flames burning outward from them like a wildfire. They filled the demon with a sense of dread. Despite the intense heat of the summer air around him, Crowley suddenly felt a chill within him. After countless winters spent in London, the demon could say without a doubt that he’d never felt colder.

His eyes flicked down, taking in the angel’s entire form as time seemed to slow around him. In the time it took for his very human heart to beat one single time, Crowley saw the flash of anger in Aziraphale’s cold, blue eyes. He noticed the tightness in the angel’s muscles beneath his tanned clothing, noticed the hardness in his jaw and the clenching of his fists. In that small expanse of time, Crowley saw exactly why his angel had been chosen to guard the Eastern gate of Eden, all those years ago, and for a second, his heart stopped, amber eyes blowing wide as his shielded gaze shifted just a fraction more to his left.

Only then, as Crowley’s gaze fell to Aziraphale’s side and the arm that was rapidly closing the distance between them, did he see the flaming sword.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright everyone! For those of you who have read the comic, you know how Tuesday's chapter is going to go. Everything after that will be new material for this story.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy! Thank you so much for reading <3 You all are wonderful and I cannot tell you how very much you are appreciated!


	25. Chapter 23

Pain ripped across Crowley’s chest as the tip of the blade sunk into the skin of his shoulder, tearing all the way down to his navel. He gasped in pain, stumbling backward as Aziraphale took another swing at him. The demon could see the wide tear in his jacket and shirt. He could feel the fragile skin beneath it beginning to smolder, rapidly turn to painful blisters.

The wound wasn’t deep. He would survive it this time, but next time Crowley may not be so lucky. One deep strike from that sword, and he was a goner. It wouldn’t be an inconvenient discorporation this time. Crowley would be extinguished,  _ permanently _ .

Amber eyes flew open wide behind black sunglasses as Crowley’s mind tried to catch up to what was happening in front of his very eyes. Why was Aziraphale doing this? What was wrong with his angel? What could have possessed Aziraphale to ever raise his weapon against Crowley? He thought they were friends. He thought Aziraphale cared about him. In the very deepest parts of his heart, he had thought that Aziraphale might even love him. So, why was he trying to  _ destroy _ Crowley?

“Aziraphale!” Crowley shouted, trying to get his attention. Blue eyes flashed in his direction, brighter and more terrifying than Crowley could ever have imagined they would be. Aziraphale’s eyes seemed vacant, lifeless, as if the very essence of his angel had been sucked out, leaving behind a dark, shadow-filled husk.

“Aziraphale,  _ please _ ,” the demon cried as he darted to the side, narrowly missing another swing of the sword. Teeth clenching to block out the pain, Crowley scrambled across the rocks, trying to put some distance between himself and the angel currently hell bent on ending him, right then and there. “It’s me! Don’t you rem - ”

Another swipe of the sword caused the words to lodge in his throat, cutting of Crowley’s source of air as he dodged a near-lethal blow once more. Thank  _ someone _ he was fast and light on his feet. It was only the demon’s quick reflexes that were keeping him alive now.

But Crowley couldn’t keep this up forever. He had to do  _ something _ before it was too late for the both of them. 

“Go away!” Aziraphale shouted at him, the shadows that clung to his skin fanning outward in jagged lines as the words echoed across the cave walls. The angel thrust himself forward once more, blazing sword in hand. Crowley ducked underneath, pivoting at the last moment to keep Aziraphale plainly in his sights. It was obvious, he  _ had _ to keep Aziraphale in front of him at all times. If he didn’t, Crowley was as sure as gone.

“Haven’t you done enough?” his angel growled, eyes still looking at Crowley, but not entirely focusing on him. It almost felt as though Aziraphale was looking past him, looking through him. “Haven’t you caused me enough pain?”

Crowley was in shock. What was Aziraphale talking about? When had he ever done something to purposefully hurt his angel? Did Aziraphale blame him for what happened? It wasn’t his fault! Crowley hadn’t meant to leave. He hadn’t meant to be gone so long. Any pain that had been caused by his absence had been completely unintentional. 

Why was Aziraphale doing this? Didn’t he know that he could  _ destroy _ Crowley if that sword managed to graze the demon any deeper than it already had? Was that what he wanted?

“Aziraphale!” Crowley shouted again as the blade lunged toward him. He toppled backward, palms slamming painfully against the rough surface beneath him. In an instant, Crowley was moving again, rolling to the side as his feet struggled to gain traction. He heard the distinct sound of metal striking stone, felt the wave of heat roar past his neck. He was going to die here. He was going to die and Aziraphale would be the one to do it and then his angel would snap out of whatever spell he was under and would realize what he’d done and Crowley just couldn’t allow that to happen. 

“Aziraphale, snap out of it!” Crowley scrambled to his feet, panting as he clutched at his chest. The wound burned. It felt like flames were still licking at his skin, like glass shards were being shoved through the crevice Aziraphale’s sword had torn through him. He gasped in pain, looking up at the angel with wide eyes, hoping that Aziraphale might finally come to his senses. That he might finally realize that Crowley was  _ right here _ . Right beside him. Crowley was back. They were together again, after all this time.

Wasn’t that what Aziraphale had wanted? Hadn’t he prayed for such a thing to happen, just as Crowley had?

Aziraphale lunged again and Crowley saw his window. With reflexes the demon had no real right to possess, he dodged beneath the angel’s outstretched arm, slamming into the familiar faded vest as hands wrapped around the lapels of Aziraphale’s coat. Memories of a hospital and a missing Antichrist and four-letter accusations filled his mind and in that moment, Crowley might have given anything to return to that moment in time. That moment, filled with uncertainty and fear and impending doom was nothing compared to this. Back then, the world might have been ending, but Aziraphale had been on his side. On  _ their side. _

“Get ahold of yourself, Angel,” the demon found himself pleading, more so than demanding. “What the heavens is wrong with you?”

Black, shadowy flames seemed to erupt across the angel’s entire form. They enveloped his entire body, scorching Crowley’s hands as they passed through. He bit back a scream, clenching his fists ever tighter as his arms trembled with the effort of holding the angel up. Pain. So much pain. It was everywhere. On his chest, across his stomach, covering his hands, radiating up his arms. 

He wanted to die. He wanted to fade away into nothing - a black, expansive void where the pain would stop. Where he would feel no more fire, no more steel. No more heartache and loneliness and despair. Crowley wanted it all to end. He was tired, so very tired. How much more of this did he have in him? How much longer could he keep enduring one thing after the next?

At least these flames didn’t disintegrate him. Through the black tendrils, he could see the skin of his corporation still held its form. It may feel like the layers of his fingers were being scorched away one by one, but the reality of the situation was - he was fine. For now.

“You have no idea…” there were tears slipping from Crowley’s eyes now, leaking out from the corners of the black glasses that were still miraculously attached to his face. Aziraphale stared down at him with a blank expression, his blue eyes blazing with a fierce light the likes of which Crowley had never seen. Black fire poured out of the angel’s sockets, mirroring the blaze that licked at pieces of the demon’s exposed skin. “You can’t possibly imagine what I’ve been through, Aziraphale.” 

He took in a gasping, choking breath. Whether it was from the smoke and shadows around him or the longing and despair welling up inside of him, Crowley did not know. “What I’ve done to get back to you, Angel. I was trapped - I fought so long, so hard to get to you. I literally escaped from Hell to be by your side again.”

More tears flooded to the surface, stinging at his eyes before they too overflowed like a waterfall against his cheeks. “All this time, Aziraphale,” the demon admitted, figuring there was no time like the present. It was now or never. This was his last chance to tell his angel how he felt. “I’ve worried about nothing but you. Aziraphale, you are  _ everything _ to me. Don’t you understand that? You have been on my mind and in my heart every second that I’ve been away.”

Still, the angel did not answer. Aziraphale hadn’t raised his sword either, the hilt of the blade still clutched in his dominant hand. Crowley supposed he should count his blessings, but he rather felt like snatching the bloody sword from the angel’s hand so he could smash it up against the cave wall, shattering it into a million tiny pieces. Such a feat would be impossible, of course. Even if holding onto the sword for a limited amount of time didn’t discorporate him on the spot, Crowley didn’t have the strength inside of him to break such a holy weapon. 

That piercing blue gaze tore into Crowley’s soul - the emptiness of it, the unfamiliarity. It killed him inside to see his angel like this. Suddenly feeling weak at the knees, Crowley felt himself falling to the ground. His knees hit the stone hard, sending bolts of pain shooting through his legs. A loud sob ripped itself from the demon’s throat as he clutched at the tanned jacket, still covered in black, shadowy flames. 

This was it. This was really the end for them. In just a few seconds, Aziraphale would come out of whatever shock he had fallen in when Crowley had pinned him against the wall. He would raise that flaming sword above his head and plunge it into Crowley’s back and the demon would vanish. He would crumble into nothing, never to be seen or heard from again. 

_ I love you. I love you. I love you. Please don’t do this. Please,  _ please, _ Aziraphale. Please don’t make me go away. Not again. Please let me stay by your side. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. Since Eden. All I’ve ever wanted was you. _

“It’s not fair” Crowley cried, burying his face into the angel’s soft stomach. “All this time, all I’ve ever wanted was you. And now I’ve finally made it back and you’re gone.” He leaned back up, peering at the angel’s face from the space above his glasses. How had this all gone so wrong? What could he do to put back the shattered pieces of their lives? Even if it wasn’t perfect, even if he couldn’t fit them all together just as they had been, Crowley didn’t care. He just wanted a chance, just one shot at seeing his angel’s smile. Just one more time.

A strangled noise emerged from Aziraphale’s throat, filled with shock and pain and disbelief. Crowley felt his heart leap inside his chest as the sword in Aziraphale’s hand clattered to the floor, the sound reverberating off the stone surfaces around them for ten agonizing seconds.

They were the longest ten seconds of Crowley’s life. They seemed to last for an eternity as Aziraphale stared down at him with wide eyes, shadows still flickering at the edges. When the sound had finally faded into nothingness around them, Crowley felt a gentle pressure at the side of his face. His breath stilled in his lungs as Aziraphale’s fingers wrapped around his sunglasses, slowly pulling them off to reveal red-rimmed eyes and bright amber irises blown wide with fear and adrenaline.

Crowley knelt, transfixed by his angel as he saw the spark of something enter the blue orbs. Did he dare to hope that was a glimmer of recognition? A tiny spark of the angel he knew and loved with all of his heart?

So slowly, he hardly realized it was happening, the pain in Crowley’s hands began to fade. The tendrils of shadow and flame that had previously covered Aziraphale’s body began to dim in brilliance as the angel reached down and brushed careful, cautious fingers across the corner of the demon’s eyes.

“Crowley?” he asked. So soft, so afraid, not daring to believe this could be true.

“Yes!” Crowley breathed, willing his angel to believe him. “Yes, Angel. Aziraphale. It’s me.” His voice caught in his throat as hope sparked to life inside of his chest. This was real, this was happening. Aziraphale was  _ here _ , right before him. Right within arm’s reach.

It was everything Crowley had ever dreamed of. 

“Aziraphale,” he whispered, never once breaking eye contact. Fearing that this moment of clarity might be ripped away if he did. “Angel, I’m here. I’m so sorry it took me so long to find you. I’ve been searching for so long.”

Aziraphale fell to his knees with a loud sob, wrapping his arms around Crowley’s neck before the demon could register what was happening. 

“Oh, Crowley, my  _ dearest _ ,” Aziraphale breathed with so much emotion, so much relief and pain and joy and  _ love _ that Crowley nearly fell apart on the spot. “I’ve missed you so much.” 

_ Oh God _ . Crowley clutched at the back of Aziraphale’s coat with all his might, pulling the angel in closer as tears streamed down his face. The demon buried his face in Aziraphale’s neck, breathing in the familiar scent of old worn books and hot cocoa - something even thirty years locked away in a cave couldn’t erase. 

_ I love you. You’re everything to me, Angel. I can’t live without you. I love you. Please stay by my side. Please, be with me always. I love you. I never want to leave you. Let me be in this moment forever.  _

Crowley had no idea if he was saying those words out loud or in his head or both. It was impossible to tell through the piercing, wrenching sobs coming from both of their mouths. Somehow, the demon thought it didn’t matter. In that moment, he knew that Aziraphale could feel everything he could feel. They were one and the same - together again, after all this time.

He was trembling. He was crying. He was falling apart at the seams, his mind replaying every horrid thing that had happened since that fateful day back at his flat. The endless passages of Hell. The feeling of dread and heart-pounding fear as he was chased to within an inch of his life. The overwhelming wave of love and light that had banished his pursuer back to the depths from where they’d come. Arriving back on Earth, learning how much time had passed, learning what had become of his angel. Seeing the transformation with his own eyes. The piercing blue eyes, the black shadow-flames. All of it flashed before him now, forcing him to relieve those painful memories all over again.

“You’re here,” Aziraphale breathed into his ear, a broken, whisper of a thing. “You’re here. You’re here. _Crowley_.”

“Yes,” Crowley urged back, wrapping his long fingers in the curls of Aziraphale’s hair, reveling at how soft they were. He could feel the burning heat around them beginning to fade as flames of anger and hatred turned to smoke and faded into the dry desert air. Crowley was safe. Aziraphale was safe. All the pain, the torment, the searching and the longing and the heartache would be no more. “Yes. I’m here. I’m here. I’m here.”

All of that was over now. He was safe, he was found, he was whole again. He was home.

Here, in Aziraphale’s arms, their pain and suffering would finally end. Now that they were together, Crowley was sure that everything was going to be alright. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've made it!! This is the last chapter that follows Lei_sam's original content. From here on out, the story will follow some of my own ideas (with collaboration from Lei_sam, of course) on how to tie up some loose ends and bring our boys home.
> 
> Thank you all so much for the support! I couldn't have done it without you :) I hope this chapter was everything you were wishing for and more, and I cannot wait to share the rest of the story with you <3


	26. Chapter 24

There was no way to tell just how long angel and demon remained in that embrace, kneeling on the cold stone floor of the cavern. It could have been three seconds or three centuries and Crowley found he didn’t care. He didn’t give two shits about what time it was or what year it was or how many days, weeks, months,  _ years, _ he had to kneel on this goddamn floor. As long as he had Aziraphale in his arms, nothing else mattered.

Eventually, one or both of them pulled away, their hands sliding down each other’s arms until fingers wrapped around fingers. Crowley looked over at Aziraphale’s face, his amber eyes finding soft blue ones, completely devoid of shadows. The relief that filled the demon in that moment was overwhelming. His angel was here. Aziraphale was  _ back _ . He was alright. They both were.

For the first time in a very long time, Crowley felt like he could finally breathe.

“How about you and I head back to London, eh?” the demon asked, unable to keep the smile off his face. It was going to be a hard transition for them both. Crowley wasn’t stupid. He knew that they’d both been through a lot over these past decades. It would take some time for them to get back into the swing of things, but Crowley was prepared. He was in it for the long haul - in it for the rest of eternity if Aziraphale would have him.

To his surprise, Aziraphale’s face fell at the suggestion. 

“I’m so sorry, my dear.” The angel seemed close to tears. “I’m afraid I’m rather stuck here. I can’t leave.”

“Stuck?” Crowley responded before allowing his brain to fully process the new information. He turned his head, glancing over at the wide open archway leading back outside. Aziraphale’s hand was still firmly wrapped around his own. “Why would you be - ” 

_ The seal _ . Crowley had seen it on his way in. Of course. That was why Aziraphale had been gone for thirty years. That was why his angel had been unable to return to London. He’d been trapped in here, the holy ground preventing himself from miracling back. He’d been trapped in here…all alone.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley spoke softly, his heart aching at what his angel must have been through. Slowly, the demon began to gather the fabric of his outer cloak into his free hand. “Hand me your sword.”

“What?” The panic so clearly evident in Aziraphale’s voice at the suggestion stabbed at Crowley’s heart. Pain shot up his arm as the angel’s hand clenched ever tighter onto his own. “No! Crowley, that sword is dangerous. It could  _ kill _ you. It could -”

He broke off with a strangled sob, releasing Crowley’s hand as he scrambled backward, shoving the sword away from him like it would reach out to strike at any second. The demon watched with wide amber eyes as the weapon teetered on the ledge momentarily before slipping right off, the clatter of metal against stone echoing for several long moments as it settled onto the floor of the cavern.

“Oh,  _ heavens _ ,” the angel practically sobbed as both his hands flew up to cover his face, hiding his eyes from Crowley’s view. “Crowley, dearest, I - ” Aziraphale’s words were strangled by a heart-wrenching sob that ripped from the angel’s throat. Amber eyes wide, Crowley watched as Aziraphale collapsed in on himself, shoulders hunched over, sides heaving with the effort of remembering to breathe through the agony he must currently be experiencing.

“I tried to - ” Again, the words would not come. Crowley scooted forward, wrapping thin, spindly fingers around Aziraphale’s wrists, gently trying to pry them away from the angel’s face. He didn’t want to force Aziraphale, didn’t want to make the angel look at him if he didn’t want to, but Crowley was sure that the only way to quell the fear and despair rising up in both of their hearts was for Aziraphale to look at him. For his angel to see that he was very much still alive, and hardly in any pain at all, so long as he didn’t move much. 

“Shh,” he soothed, tracing gentle lines down the length of Aziraphale’s hand. “Angel, it’s alright. I’m here. You’re here. We’re together again. No one got hurt, right? So don’t worry about it.”

“But,  _ Crowley, _ ” Aziraphale sobbed as the demon slipped his arms around the angel’s shoulders once more, drawing him into a hug. 

“None of that, Aziraphale,” he murmured, feeling an overwhelming urge to lean forward slightly and press a kiss to those soft, golden curls. “Everything is alright now,” Crowley insisted. “And it’s going to stay that way, I promise. I need the sword to break that seal outside. It’s the only way to get you out of here so we can go home. I promise, nothing’s going to happen. I won’t even touch the blessed thing, alright?”

Slowly, with a quiet sniff, Aziraphale nodded. Crowley held him for a few minutes more, soaking in the warmth of his presence. He could stay like this for the rest of eternity and be completely content. But, based on the slight tremble of the angel’s shoulders and the way his fists lay clenched, resting on Crowley’s lap, Aziraphale would not be.

It was time to take the angel home. For good.

With a gentle squeeze of his arms, Crowley extracted himself from around his angel and climbed down the rocky path, down to where the sword had landed. It was no longer flaming, but Crowley doubted that would matter. Best not to speculate what might happen when a weapon as formidable as that one came into contact with an occult being, such as himself.

He picked it up with his cloak, keeping several layers of black fabric between his palm and the hilt of the swords as the demon clambered back up toward the giant gaping hole of sunlight permeating much of the cavernous space around them. This should be simple enough. All he had to do was walk back across the threshold, use the sword to cut through that blasted seal, and they were home free. There was still a lot of holy ground around these parts, and Crowley had definitely been weakened by his brush with extinction. The pair may have to spend a day or so in the desert to recover, but they would make it back to London soon enough. Crowley would make sure of it.

“Crowley!” 

The panicked voice pierced through the air again, causing Crowley to halt mid-step. He whirled around, ready to hurl the sword at whatever had frightened Aziraphale so, consequences be damned. But there was no one there. The angel was standing on that same ledge, looking up at him with wide, frightened blue eyes. His shoulders were hunched, hands folded tightly up against his chest. Crowley had never seen his angel look so small before.

“Crowley,  _ please _ ,” there were tears in Aziraphale’s eyes. “Please don’t leave me. I don’t want you to go.”

Crowley was torn. He wanted to run to Aziraphale. Wrap his arms around the angel once more and comfort him. Assure him that he wasn’t going  _ anywhere _ . That he would be by Aziraphale’s side always. That all he needed to do was take a quick step outside and then they could go home.

It was obvious Aziraphale had been through a lot these past eighty years. Crowley wanted to get back to London as soon as possible so they could get things back to the way they were supposed to be. He couldn’t do that if he kept returning to Aziraphale to comfort him. If this seal was anything like the ones he’d come across back in Hell, Aziraphale wouldn’t be able to cross the threshold of the cave with him, no matter what they tried. If Crowley wanted to get Aziraphale out, he was going to take matters into his own hands. But that would mean leaving his angel alone in this godforsaken place. Just the thought of doing such a thing made his fractured heart ache.

“I’m not going anywhere, angel,” the demon assured him, remaining exactly where he stood. “I’m just going to step outside and break that seal, yeah? So you and I can go home.”

Slowly, Aziraphale nodded. Even from two dozen feet away, Crowley could see the tremble of his lip, the quiver of his chin. The sooner he got this over with and was back within arm’s reach of Aziraphale, the better. It was clear to him that what his angel needed right now was to be in Crowley’s presence. To feel Crowley right there beside him. In all honesty, it was all the demon wanted too - what he needed.

Without another word, the demon clambered outside, careful to keep Aziraphale within his sights at all times, just in case the angel needed him to rush back in. He could see the angel hovering, shifting across the floor of the cave so that he, too, could keep Crowley within his own sights. It would seem that his angel was just as anxious about any sort of separation as Crowley was.

Step by step, the demon approached the outer wall of the cave, sword hilt still wrapped protectively with the edge of his cloak. He could feel the energy radiating from the sword, even though it was no longer on fire. Amber eyes drifted across the rocky surface until they fell upon the symbol, carved deep into the mountain’s mighty face.

Anger boiled up inside of Crowley’s chest. Who had done this to his beloved angel? Who could have been so cruel, so heartless, to leave such a gentle soul out here all alone?

Crowley had a sneaking suspicion he knew who was behind this. And if he ever saw that smug bastard again, it would be all too soon.

Hoisting the sword up over his head, Crowley stared down at the marking, willing into it the same fear he bestowed in all of his plants back home. Mountains were a bit more stubborn than plants, it turned out, but that didn’t stop a handful of tiny pebbles from scuttling down the surface before the demon let out a pain-filled roar and plunged the sword straight into the heart of the mountainside. 

Crowley put all of himself into that strike. He channeled his anger and pain and loneliness and fear, pushing it down out of himself and through the celestial sword currently buried hilt deep in the solid stone. The effect was instantaneous. Beside him, the sound of a million shattering glass windows filled the air. There was a bright flash of light as an invisible barrier filled with golden energy, cracking at the innermost point and shattering outward like the web of a spider until the pressure became too much and it crumbled into nothingness.

For a moment, the demon simply stared, chest heaving as he tried to ignore how his wound screamed out in pain. With a soft smile in Aziraphale’s direction, Crowley wrenched the sword back out and took a step toward his dearest friend.

“Come on, angel,” he coaxed, holding out a hand for Aziraphale to take as the angel tentatively crossed the now freed threshold. With the other hand, Crowley wordlessly handed over the sword and watched as it vanished into another dimension at Aziraphale’s light touch

“We’re going to have to walk a little ways,” Crowley murmured, tightening his grip on Aziraphale’s hand as he led the angel down the rocky surface and onto the much looser sands. “There’s an infuriatingly large amount of holy land around here and I, well I - ”

Crowley cut himself off, worried that if he let slip how much the graze against his stomach was inhibiting his abilities right now, that Aziraphale might break down again. He glanced over, realizing for the first time that his sunglasses were nowhere to be found, and looked at Aziraphale’s face, trying to gauge his reaction. The angel stared ahead at the vast expanse of the desert, his hand loosely holding onto Crowley’s, blue eyes sightless and blank.

“Angel?” Crowley tried again, reaching over with his free hand to wave it in front of Aziraphale’s face. “You alright?”

Blue eyes blinked and slowly focused in on him. Aziraphale looked confused, dazed. As if he was waking up from a dream and didn’t quite know where he’d ended up.

“What?” Aziraphale’s voice sounded distant, with a certain airy quality that Crowley couldn’t quite place. “Oh yes, my dear. I’m fine.”

Crowley nodded his head slowly, not entirely convinced but unsure what he should do about it. Probably best to just keep moving. The sooner he got them both back to the Soho bookshop, the better.

They walked all day. Hand in hand, Crowley and Aziraphale crossed the desert with hardly a word uttered between them. The demon kept his eye fixed on the horizon, with occasional glances over at his angel, looking for any telltale signs of distress. So far, he hadn’t spotted anything totally amiss. Aziraphale, too, kept his face turned ahead of them, blue eyes mostly obscured by the squinting of his eyelids against the bright desert sun.

Hour by hour went by as day turned into evening and evening turned into night. Once again, the stars emerged above them in their shining brilliance. Crowley slowed to a halt, eyes turned toward the heavens as he felt the gentle, familiar weight of Aziraphale’s hand in his.

“Best stop for the night,” he murmured, snapping his free fingers to miracle them up a tent for shelter. Almost immediately, Crowley wished he hadn’t done so. The world tipped around him, spinning on its axis as he stumbled forward, catching himself as quickly as he could. Aziraphale hardly seemed to notice, staring ahead of them with a blank expression on his round face.

“We’re probably far enough now,” Crowley murmured, taking a step inside and collapsing on the pile of pillows and blankets that had so thoughtfully accompanied his tent into existence. “In the morning we can miracle ourselves back.” Aziraphale moved to sit beside him, keeping a respectable distance between the pair as he settled into the comfortable, cloth-covered floor. His eyes remained fixed upon Crowley, unblinking, with a sort-of far off look to them that made him more than a bit uneasy.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” the demon murmured, trying his best to stifle a yawn. He’d been on his feet, desperately trying to find the one thing in all the world that mattered to him for over  _ eighty _ years, without a single moment’s rest. As far as Crowley was concerned, he’d earned the right to a little siesta. The skin on his torso, still screaming out in pain whenever he moved agreed with him.

“Are you real?” the angel whispered after a long moment’s hesitation. Crowley’s amber eyes went wide and he grasped for Aziraphale’s hands again, lifting one to his chest, careful to avoid the gash in the fabric and the blistered skin underneath.

“Yes, angel,” Crowley breathed, gazing up into pale blue eyes, willing his angel to feel the heartbeat right beneath his fingertips. “Of course. Yes, I’m real, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale was silent for a while longer, so long that Crowley thought the angel had zoned out again. He settled back down into the nest of pillows, keeping one of his hands firmly grasped in Aziraphale’s. Only then, once the demon was still, did Aziraphale speak again.

“I thought I was dreaming again.”

Crowley’s heart broke. Tears pooled in his eyes and he blinked them rapidly away. What had  _ happened _ to Aziraphale while he’d been gone? Where had all those dark shadows and flames come from? Why had his angel been trapped for thirty years? Why, when they were  _ finally _ back together again, was he so distant now?

“You’re not dreaming, angel,” Crowley encouraged, giving the hand a soft squeeze as he settled down, eyes closing automatically as exhaustion overcame him like a wave crashing against the shore. “I promise,” he murmured as the last threads of consciousness slipped through his fingertips. “I’m right here.’

The demon awoke some undetermined time later to the feeling of a gentle pressure on his chest. His amber eyes flew open, instantly adjusting to the soft glow of the moonlight filtering in through the mostly closed flap of their tent. For a second, Crowley panicked, thinking he was back in the deepest, darkest pits of Hell. That he had fallen asleep and was currently being chased by some horrifying monster determined to rip out whatever sliver of a soul he had left.

Then, his eyes turned to the side and over toward the angel still kneeling by his side. Panic turned into relief and joy, spreading a soft smile across his face as he looked up at his angel. Aziraphale was hovering over him, fist clenched around the collar of Crowley’s jacket, blue eyes glistening in the starlight. The demon felt his breath still in his lungs as he looked up at his angel. Was everything alright? Was Aziraphale hurt? Scared? Did he need help? Should Crowley say something, or would that just make everything worse?

After several deafening thuds of his heart against his ribcage, Crowley finally gathered his courage, softly clearing his throat before speaking. “Everything alright, angel?”

There was no response. Aziraphale simply sat there, staring down at Crowley’s form, fist clenched around the demon’s jacket. Crowley’s breath stilled in his chest as he watched, not daring to move even an inch, as if doing so might break this spell that he suddenly found himself under, unable to look away from the soft blue eyes still gazing down at him. 

So slowly, he wouldn’t have noticed it if he hadn’t been yearning with all of his might, Aziraphale’s hand shifted up, fingertips ghosting across first his forehead, then the defined shape of his cheekbones, finally coming to rest upon his lips, the lightest of touches, like the strands of a single feather.

Just as quickly as it had come, the touch was gone and Crowley felt tears beginning to flood his eyes. He rapidly blinked them away, reminding himself again that both of them had been through so much recently. Now was not the time to let his feelings get in the way of things. He could be patient. He could wait to tell Aziraphale what the angel meant to him at a later time. It didn’t matter how long he’d wanted to feel the angel’s gentle touch upon his face. It didn’t matter how long he’d dreamed of shimmering blue eyes gazing at him with adoration. It didn’t matter how long he’d imagined what those lips might have felt like against his own. Crowley had Aziraphale back. His angel was safe. That was all that mattered.

Angel and demon sat motionless for a while, Crowley staring up at Aziraphale’s distant face, hardly daring to breathe. His heart thudded against his chest, almost painfully, as he silently wished for the angel to come closer. Crowley would not move toward Aziraphale unless invited. He would keep his distance, terrified that if he approached his friend, he might inadvertently push Aziraphale away.

The angel had barely spoken a word since they’d left the cave. He’d been so quiet, so distant, that Crowley was sure something was wrong. But what? And how in the world was he supposed to fix it?

Suddenly, Aziraphale moved again and Crowley’s heart stilled along with his lungs. The angel drew closer, leaning down until his nose brushed up against Crowley’s with the barest brush of contact. Heat rose to the demon’s cheek and neck and he hoped against hope that Aziraphale couldn’t see the effect he was having on the demon in such low lighting.

Crowley’s heart ached inside of his chest with the closeness. He was barely an inch away from the thing he’d wanted for so long. The love he felt for this being in front of him battled to escape the confines of his chest, overflowing from his heart into every hidden crevice of his body. Aziraphale could feel it,  _ surely _ Aziraphale could feel it washing off him in waves, erupting out of him like a volcano.

He remained still, wishing, wanting, waiting to see what Aziraphale would do. Five agonizing seconds later, Crowley’s prayers were answered as the angel leaned down to close the distance between them, brushing his lips against Crowley’s in a gentle touch.

A groan escaped Crowley’s mouth. As if they had a mind of their own, his arms snaked up to wrap themselves around the angel, pulling him closer to Crowley’s chest. For one brief moment, everything felt right in the world. He was here, back on Earth with his angel in his arms. An angel that cared for him. An angel that wanted him around. An angel that  _ loved him back. _

Beneath his embrace, Aziraphale stiffened and Crowley immediately pulled back as far as the desert floor would allow him to. His amber eyes went wide, filling with tears as he took in the distant expression on his angel’s face. Took in the glassy sheen across those breathtaking blue eyes. Rapidly, he blinked the tears away, just in case his angel could actually see them were they to start streaming down his cheeks.

Aziraphale didn’t know. Aziraphale didn’t understand. He’d been trapped in that cave for so goddamn long that the angel couldn’t always tell dreams from reality. Aziraphale didn’t know where he was or what he was doing. He didn’t know it was Crowley laying on the ground beneath him. Or maybe he did, but he thought he was hallucinating. He thought this wasn’t real. Aziraphale would  _ never _ kiss Crowley if he was lucid, if he really knew what he was doing. This had all been a misunderstanding. A mistake.

“I’m so sorry, angel,” the demon cried, in barely more than a whisper. He was sorry for so, so much. Sorry he’d disappeared. Sorry he’d taken so long to get back to Earth, to find Aziraphale. Sorry he hadn’t been here to prevent whatever awful things had happened to his best friend. Sorry he had taken advantage of the situation that had presented itself without making sure it was what his angel really wanted.

When Aziraphale did not pull away further, Crowley tightened the muscles in his stomach, ignoring how they screamed in pain from his still healing wound, and lifted himself up, placing one palm against the soft skin of Aziraphale’s right cheek. A soft breath escaped his lungs as Crowley brushed his lips up against the uncovered cheek in the gentlest of caresses.

There were so many things he wanted to say, and yet the words would not come. How could he express just how much Aziraphale meant to him? How did he put into words just how much his heart had ached when they were apart? How did he get his angel to understand everything that was swirling around his head and in his heart?

How did he tell this beautiful creature that he was absolutely  _ everything _ ?

Some of the demon’s fears dissipated at the soft smile that tugged upward at Aziraphale’s lips. Anxiety still clawed at his stomach, but the edges were softer, the feeling not so intense. Tomorrow, he would get his angel home and they would start to rebuild everything they had lost. They would do so together and maybe, just  _ maybe _ , Aziraphale might learn to love him too, for real this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspired by some follow-on work Lei_sam created for this story. I'll be posting one of them right after this chapter for you all to enjoy! Anything you enjoyed from this chapter was all thanks to her, so if you've got the time, be sure to send some love her way!!


	27. Art: Behind Blue Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This short excerpt was something Lei_sam thought up as an extension of her original comic and it heavily influenced the previous chapter. I wanted to take the time to share it all with you (because her art is amazing and without it, or her, this story wouldn't exist!). I hope you all enjoy this as much as I did!!!

* * *

_“You’re staring again…”_

_The words echoed around the bare campfire, the last rays of the day’s light casting haunting shadows over the desolated scenery surrounding them. _

_Aziraphale’s sunken eyes looked so tired that they almost resembled two sore bruises on his unnaturally pale face. His piercing blue eyes seemed lost most of the time, but were now staring unblinkingly at Crowley, his intense focus making the demon slightly uncomfortable. It had been days since the angel had last set his sight on him. It had been even longer since Aziraphale had talked to him at all, save for the piercing and heart wrenching screams the angel let out whenever he succumbed to a restless sleep._

_“Are you real?” _

_The angel’s whispered words took Crowley by surprise. He hadn’t really expected an answer. He’d taken to talking to Aziraphale a lot as they’d traveled, even if he hadn’t been able to coax a response from the other before tonight._

_“I… yes angel, I’m real…” Crowley desperately tried to think of something else to say, something that might get Aziraphale to open up to him, to bring the angel out of his stupor, but he could already tell Aziraphale was closing up again, his eyes glazing over with a dull light on them._

_“I thought I was dreaming again” the angel said under his breath after what felt like a lifetime. Had Crowley not been intently looking at the other’s face he could have sworn he’d imagined the angel´s whisper. With a heavy sigh Aziraphale turned over, his unfocused eyes reflecting the handful of stars that shone through the rapidly dying sunset. _


	28. Chapter 25

Crowley had thought the bookshop had looked bad the first time he’d seen it, several days ago when he’d finally made it back to London. That was nothing compared to how it looked now that angel and demon were standing before it together, hands clutching to each other like if they dared to let go, the other might just get swept away by the wind, never to return. It was an absolute mess. Completely unrecognizable with its faded sign and shattered window, paint peeling off the front door. Before, the bookshop had always been so warm and welcoming. Now, the building simply felt cold.

Aziraphale was silent. He’d been silent practically the whole journey home. Other than the few timid questions about the reality he’d found him in and that _kiss_ they’d shared one night, the angel hadn’t made any effort to interact with Crowley at all.

Even now, the memory of the kiss burned in Crowley’s mind. He wanted nothing more than to wrap Aziraphale up in his arms and press his lips to the angel’s and never ever come up for air. Crowley had known he’d been in love with Aziraphale for a while. He had imagined kissing the angel millions of times, but that small taste out in the desert had lit a fire inside of him that the demon feared might never go out. 

Alongside his desire, guilt burned even brighter within him. Aziraphale was obviously still recovering from all that had happened to him. Crowley had taken advantage of the situation presented to him and had nearly ruined _everything_ between them. He’d moved too fast and Aziraphale had pulled away from him and he’d been so terrified that he would lose his angel all over again. Crowley vowed then and there to do better.

Now, as the pair stood in front of the doorway with shattered glass windows, Aziraphale looked more lost than vacant. More mournful than absent. Crowley didn’t know which was worse.

“It’s alright, angel,” he murmured softly, giving the hand within his a gentle squeeze. The demon’s heart pounded against his chest so loud he was sure Aziraphale could hear it. “We can fix it. All it will take is a quick miracle and everything will be back to the way it was. You’ll see.”

Crowley lifted his hand, ready to do just that. Anything to make his angel smile. Anything to start to fix all that had been broken between them. Anything to get back to the way things had been before all of this mess had begun.

A gentle pressure on his fingertips stopped Crowley in his tracks. The demon looked over to find Aziraphale gazing up at him, blue eyes glistening with unshed tears. The sight of it sent a stab of pain through his heart. What was wrong? Why had Aziraphale stopped him? Didn’t he want to fix things between them?

“No miracles,” the angel murmured, his voice gentle but laced with sadness.

Amber eyes widened just a hair. Crowley was aware that Aziraphale could see every micro expression on his face. After the angel’s sudden and emotional reaction to Crowley’s eyes back in the cave, the demon had disposed of his trademark sunglasses completely. The action seemed to make Aziraphale slightly more relaxed. Slightly more comfortable in Crowley’s presence. At that point, the demon would have done absolutely anything for his angel.

“Are you sure?” Crowley pressed, his lips turning downward in a thin line. Behind them, vehicles rode on by. Some on wheels, some hovering in the air, a foot or so off the ground. All bright and shiny and new. “It wouldn’t be that difficult,” he admitted. Truly, it wouldn’t be. Miracling up that tent had been a nightmare, but it had been several days since and Crowley’s corporation was surprisingly resistant. His wound was almost completely healed and now that they were far away from any holy land, Crowley’s demonic powers were flowing like never before.

Aziraphale simply shook his head. Softly, slowly, with a deep sorrow shimmering in his blue eyes that cut Crowley to the core. “I don’t want to use any miracles.”

He said it in such a way that sounded so final. He said it in a way that suggested Aziraphale - the angel who miracled steam over his hot chocolate when it got too cold, the angel who snapped his fingers to turn on lights where they had no right to be, the angel who _several times_ over the past handful of centuries had gotten reprimanded for too many frivolous miracles - might never want to use another miracle again. 

“Sure,” Crowley found himself saying, shuffling forward when Aziraphale made no attempt to enter the shop. “Whatever you want, angel.” If Aziraphale didn’t want to use miracles, then they wouldn’t use miracles. How hard could fixing a few windows even be? Crowley had lived on Earth since before humans had invented things like construction and carpentry. Surely, if they could figure out how to build bridges and skyscrapers, Crowley could fix up a little old bookshop in the corner of Soho.

The door finally opened as Crowley turned the handle and angel and demon stepped over the threshold. Hand in hand they picked their way across the room until they were standing in the middle of the shop, surrounded by shelf after shelf of dusty old tomes, ancient furniture that hadn’t been upgraded in several centuries, and stacks upon stacks of newspapers.

Crowley’s heart sank as Aziraphale’s hand slipped out of his own. He watched, amber eyes fixed on the angel’s form as, step by step, Aziraphale reacquainted himself with the bookshop. Pale fingers traced across the spines of dozens of dusty books. Soft blue eyes lingered over scraps of paper and cards that littered the old wooden writing desk. Several of them had been dumped onto the floor, and after a few moments of silence, Aziraphale stooped down to pick them up.

For a moment, the demon contemplated going over to help, but the distant look in Aziraphale’s eyes as he stared down at the pages caused Crowley to pause. Did Aziraphale want his help? Or would he rather be left alone? If Crowley approached him now, would he just scare the angel away?

Something from the corner of his eye caught Crowley’s attention. A small slip of paper tucked up underneath the twine holding together a chest-high stack of newspapers. Crowley paused, noting Aziraphale’s handwriting standing out against the pale parchment. _January to June, 2042. First self-driving hovercraft, Winter Olympics - Norway, Levy Comet._

“Aziraphale,” the demon found himself saying before the words could register in his mind. “What is all this?” Sure enough, there were dozens upon dozens of stacks in the room, all nearly waist high or taller, with carefully detailed notes in very familiar handwriting appearing on a slip of paper stuck beneath each crisscross of twine that held the piles together.

Silence fell between them, causing Crowley to look up momentarily. For the briefest of seconds, fear flashed through his entire being. He’d been distracted. He’d looked away for just one moment and Aziraphale was gone. That’s why the angel wasn’t responding to him. It had to be.

But no, Aziraphale was still here, kneeling on the floor with the stack of cards and photographs and envelopes spread out at all odd sorts of angles in his hands. After a moment, Crowley’s question seemed to register in his mind and the angel looked up, blue eyes drifting over to Crowley’s form and the stack of newspapers beside him.

“Oh,” the angel fumbled as he moved to stand, placing the stack of cards he’d just picked up onto the desk beside him. Crowley winced as they immediately slid right back off, scattering across the floor by Aziraphale’s feet. “You shouldn’t worry about those, my dear. A silly little side project of mine. No use spending any time on them.”

Aziraphale was flustered. There was a pink tinge to his cheeks and he was currently looking anywhere in the room but directly at Crowley’s face. He was also talking, which was a good sign, as far as the demon could tell. Aziraphale hadn’t said as many words in the entire time it had taken them to get here. This was progress.

Progress was good, so Crowley pressed his angel a bit further. “Really?” He looked around, arms gesturing to the dozens of stacks around them. “I think it would be fair to say that you have more newspapers here than books, angel. Don’t tell me that isn’t important.”

Aziraphale’s eyes flickered up to Crowley’s and the demon offered him a gentle smile. Several feet separated them at the moment and it took all of Crowley’s willpower not to cross the room and take Aziraphale’s hand in his once more. He needed to be patient. Patience was his friend here. Aziraphale would come around eventually if Crowley just bided his time. It had worked for the Arrangement. It had worked for their friendship. It would work for this too.

“Well,” the angel began, feet scuffing gently against the hardwood floor as his arm fell to his side, fingertips tracing the nearest fold of grey and black paper. “When I - ” his voice failed for a moment, and Crowley waited, watching as his angel’s brow furrowed slightly. “When I realized you weren’t...coming back anytime soon, I started collecting them.”

Crowley frowned. Aziraphale had...collected newspapers? Why? Crowley had never once read a newspaper in his life. Not the human ones, anyway. Sure, he’d held them in his hands a few times to look like he was busy, but he could do that with any old newspaper. Why would his angel have gone through all the trouble of not only keeping these wastes of space, but...categorizing them? And reading through them to mark down the highlights? Almost as if - 

Oh.

_Oh._ Suddenly, it all made sense. Suddenly, Crowley understood what all this chaos was about, and his heart was filled with a wave of love so strong, he was _sure_ Aziraphale could feel it from across the room.

“You saved them for me,” the demon breathed. “So I could catch up on what I had missed out on.”

Aziraphale simply nodded, a ghost of a smile gracing his face as he was seemingly unable to say whatever was on his mind at the moment. Just the brief sight of those upturned lips sent the demon’s heart racing inside of his chest. Was that a sign that things were getting better? Was Aziraphale finally making his way back to the demon, after all this time?

Tears pricked at Crowley’s eyes and he desperately tried to blink them away. Now was not the time to be getting sentimental. Now was not the time for Aziraphale to find out just how pathetic a demon he was. Aziraphale had been through so much over the past century. Crowley needed to be strong, for his sake.

“And the flowers?” he asked, mind returning to the wondrous sight he had seen only a few days ago. Slowly, his eyes drifted from the newspapers below his fingertips up to the angel standing far too many feet away. Marveling at how the morning light filtered through the shattered window, illuminating his golden curls like a halo. “The garden? In my flat.” Crowley’s throat closed around the sound coming from his voice, cutting it off prematurely and making it sound like he was far more emotional than he should be. The demon gritted his teeth, cursing his weak heart.

Aziraphale’s eyes widened slightly. Was that a blush creeping up onto his cheeks? It was difficult for Crowley to tell for sure. “Oh…” the angel murmured, casting his gaze away. Crowley nearly screamed in frustration. Why? Why was Aziraphale pulling away from him now? They’d had a moment. He’d finally seen the angel smile. What had he done wrong? What had he said to make Aziraphale want to pull away from him again?

“You put so much heart into your plants, my dear,” Aziraphale murmured. A glimmer of light appeared on his cheek and Crowley realized in stunned silence that the angel was crying. “I didn’t want all of your efforts to go to waste.” A sniff. “They’re probably all dead by now, with how long I’ve been gone.”

“_No,_” Crowley breathed, taking several steps forward to close the distance between them. Aziraphale looked up as the demon approached him, blue eyes pouring down tears like waterfalls. Without thinking, Crowley lifted a hand to his angel’s cheek, using his thumb to wipe away the moisture as best he could. “No, angel,” the demon breathed again, wanting nothing more in the world than to see that smile again and again and again. “They’re alive. They’re _thriving. _Aziraphale, I don’t know what you did, but my flat is the most beautiful garden I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen _the_ garden.” 

Crowley paused, the words catching in his throat. His amber eyes bored down into Aziraphale’s, heart lighting up as the angel smiled a faint smile. “_Thank you,_” the words didn’t burn as much as he thought they might. 

A fresh wave of tears overflowed from Aziraphale’s eyes and Crowley watched as the angel withdrew into himself. His shoulders hunched up protectively around his neck and the base of his head, arms folded around himself like Aziraphale was desperately trying to keep himself from completely falling apart.

“Oh, angel,” Crowley breathed, taking a step forward with his arms open wide. His heart was bleeding inside of his chest. They were both falling to pieces and in that moment, Crowley was sure that the only way to fix either one of them was to work through this _together._

Aziraphale’s watery eyes flashed up to Crowley’s face and the angel took a hesitant step back. “No, please,” he moaned, looking away once more. The pain in Aziraphale’s voice was almost too much for the demon to bear. “S-stay away.”

_No,_ he felt his heart and soul screaming back. _I’ve spent too long away from you. Don’t keep me out of arm’s reach any longer, angel. I beg of you. Let me be here for you. Let me love you, please._

“_Aziraphale,_” Crowley reprimanded, sternly, but softly, and with as much care as he knew how to muster. “Angel, please.” Tears formed in his eyes and the demon let them fall. Let them cascade down his cheeks and drip of his angular chin as he gazed over at the being he loved more than anything else in all of creation. 

“Haven’t I been away long enough?”

A strangled sob escaped from Aziraphale’s lips as he leaned forward, burying his face in Crowley’s neck. His arms were still wrapped tightly around his chest, barely holding his shaking form together, but at least now Crowley was permitted to touch him. At least now, Crowley could wrap his arms around the angel’s shaking shoulders and rub his hand soothingly along Aziraphale’s back, trying to ease the pain, if only a little.

Moans and cries of ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I missed you’ filled the air in conjunction with Aziraphale’s sobs and Crowley only clung to his angel even tighter. How could his heart ache so when he finally had the one thing in existence that he wanted? Why did the pain in his chest still linger when he finally had Aziraphale here with him once more?

“It’s alright, angel, I’m here,” Crowley soothed, feeling like he was mere moments away from crumbling into a million pieces himself. How was he supposed to do this? How was he supposed to remain whole when the one person he cared about was falling apart in his arms.

“Show me some of those newspapers, yeah?” the demon suggested, ghosting his fingers over Aziraphale’s curls, wishing he could bury his fingers in them, just to see if they were as soft as they looked. “What are some of your all-time favorite moments that I missed?”

The angel sniffed, pulling back from Crowley with red-rimmed eyes on full display. He turned in the demon’s arms, but did not step away as those eyes surveyed the area around him. Another soft smile appeared as Aziraphale reached down and began flipping through the stack, looking for whatever story had crossed his mind.

“In 2025, they tried adding on a parade to the annual Chelsea Flower Show,” Aziraphale murmured, his smile growing a bit wider by the second. “They had all of these floats set up to march through central London on their way to the festival, but some of the vendors shipped in their flowers from overseas and one of the containers was infested with beetles.”

Crowley couldn’t help the shocked gasp that flew from his mouth. The sound of it caused Aziraphale to chuckle slightly, spreading a glowing warmth from the demon’s chest all the way out to the tips of his fingers.

“It was a disaster,” the angel admitted, slipping the paper out to show Crowley the picture on the front page - half eaten displays that were barely recognizable. “It was terrible, but all I could think about was how disappointed in those flowers you would have been.”

“I would have set them straight, for sure,” the demon affirmed, shooting his angel another smile. “No flower of mine lets itself be eaten by a measly beetle.” Silence passed between the pair for a moment as Crowley struggled with what to say next. He had to keep things light. Keep Aziraphale smiling. Keep the angel hopeful and engaged or he might slip away again. But what should he do?

“What do you say you and I get to work fixing up this old bookshop?” Crowley asked, a hint of a grin sneaking onto his face. Aziraphale looked over at him, perplexed for a moment, then seeing the welcoming look on Crowley’s face, he smiled. “It should be no trouble at all for a team like you and me. We’ve got you, to do all the heavy lifting, and then there’s me, so we look cool while doing it. Piece of cake.”

Just as he’d hoped, the comment brought forth another soft laugh from the angel. Blue eyes twinkled with a spark of mirth as the angel stepped away to begin organizing what they would need to do first. After a moment, he turned back around, something hopeful etched upon his face.

“Could we, perhaps, once we’re done...could we go out and get a piece of cake? German chocolate sounds absolutely divine right about now.”

Crowley beamed, tears pricking at his eyes as he moved to grab the nearest stack of newspapers, not a miracle in sight. Aziraphale had said no miracles, and Crowley was going to abide by his angel’s rules.

“Absolutely, angel. We can buy the whole entire cake and eat it if you like. Whatever you want, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale beamed back, sending Crowley’s heart racing once more and in that moment, he was sure that with time, everything would be alright again. He just had to be patient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the late posting today, everyone. I had a crazy busy weekend and didn't have as much time as I wanted to get this chapter done. I hope you like it!


	29. Chapter 26

It took them three days to return the bookshop to its original state. Three days of hauling piles of newspapers and dusting shelves. Days of removing and replacing windows, of scraping paint and sanding down, of retouching and repurposing until the building was as good as new.

All the while, Aziraphale remained focused on whatever task was currently at hand. Crowley had offered to repair it all with the snap of his fingers, but the angel had turned him down. A miracle would have been simpler, but just the thought of allowing that power to course through his veins...it made Aziraphale sick to his stomach. 

Instead of focusing on the horrible memories that seemed to be constantly floating around in Aziraphale’s mind, the angel turned his attention to memories of a different kind - dreams that he clung to like a life vest. Dreams of Crowley and the life they could have had.

Aziraphale dreamed of that date oh so many years ago. He dreamed of taking the demon to a nice restaurant, dreamed of walking through the park arm in arm as they basked in each other’s presence. He dreamed of stopping to gaze out over the pond, waves rippling across the surface, obscuring the reflection of starlight up above.

They would stop talking, eyes staring out across the waters for a bit before Aziraphale finally gathered the courage to turn and face his beloved demon. He would smile up at Crowley, lifting a hand to touch his cheek, heart fluttering as he heard the demon’s breath catch in his chest. There would be a hint of fear in Aziraphale’s mind, but no doubt that Crowley wanted this. That he’d been waiting for this just as long, if not longer, than Aziraphale had.

Their lips would touch and warmth would spread from his fingertips to his toes. Aziraphale’s heart would soar as high as it could within the confines of his chest and for the first time in over six thousand years, the angel would know what heaven felt like.

He dreamed of kissing Crowley a lot. Kissing him under the summer stars and on cozy winter nights in the bookshop. Kissing him in the morning as Crowley’s beautiful amber eyes fluttered open for the first time as sunlight streamed in through their bedside window. Dreamed of kissing him in the heart of the desert and upon the vast oceans and as they flew above the clouds, watching as the sunset turned the clouds from white to crimson and gold.

Whenever the dark thoughts in his head grew to be too much, Aziraphale retreated into those daydreams. They were the calm in the storm raging inside of him. The relief to his pain, and Aziraphale found himself becoming lost in them, never wanting to come out.

Why would he, when reality hurt so much? Why would he want to leave his dreams when Aziraphale knew they would never come true?

“Angel?” Came Crowley’s soft voice from somewhere beside him. Aziraphale blinked, clearing his mind of those thoughts, and turned his attention toward the demon. The first thing he caught sight of were those dazzling amber eyes, gazing over at him so softly, so tenderly, it made Aziraphale want to cry. Why was Crowley even still here, after what he’d tried to do? Why was Crowley still trying to help Aziraphale piece his life back together when he’d - when Aziraphale had - 

A single tear escaped the confines of Aziraphale’s eyes and Crowley was by his side in an instant. Gentle hands wrapped themselves around the angel’s arm and lead him quietly over to the nearby couch, which had finally been cleared of all its clutter. Hastily, Aziraphale wiped at his cheeks, furious that he’d allowed himself to break down again so soon. Hadn’t Crowley been through enough already? Why should he have to stick around and take care of Aziraphale’s broken, bleeding heart?

“Talk to me, Aziraphale,” the demon urged, keeping one of his hands resting lightly on Aziraphale’s arm. “You don’t - ” the words cut off suddenly and Aziraphale looked up to see the pain-filled grimace on his beloved’s face. Forcing a smile onto his lips, the angel reached out a hand to cover the one Crowley currently had on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. His heart fluttered when he felt the demon return the gesture. Immediately, Aziraphale shut the feelings down.

_No,_ he chastised internally. _You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve his compassion or his attention. You don’t deserve his love. Not after what you’ve done._

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Crowley murmured, taking a deep breath. For a moment, Aziraphale thought the demon might do something - move closer, take his hand, _something_ that would lend reason to why the demon suddenly appeared so nervous. Aziraphale’s heart fluttered inside his chest once more as he took in Crowley’s soft, yet hesitant smile.

“We’re friends, right?” the demon asked, voice only partially strained. “Best friends. So talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

The way he said it struck a chord with the angel. So soft, so sad, as if perhaps Crowley wanted to be more.

Did he dare to hope that might be true? No. It was impossible. What would Crowley want with an angel such as himself? An angel who ate far too much food. An angel who was stuck in his ways, who never seemed to change. An angel who couldn’t seem to learn his lesson about the nature of Heaven and his fault in trusting them.

“Where have you been?” The words came tumbling out before Aziraphale could stop them. His heart ached inside his chest, and once again the angel felt like he was falling to pieces. “I searched everywhere for you, Crowley. I asked Adam to bring you back. I tried to summon you myself with a ritual. I tracked down demon after demon here on Earth asking if they’d seen you. I went to _Hell_ looking for you and no one knew where you were.”

Tears pooled in Aziraphale’s eyes as he took a deep, steadying breath and reached forward to grab onto Crowley’s hands. Sometimes, in moments like this where he felt like a scarf or a tapestry unravelling from each end, something as simple as a hand to hold was enough to keep him grounded. Enough to keep him from wasting away to nothing. 

“Where have you been?” _Where have you been? Why couldn’t I find you? I’ve missed you so much._

“Oh, angel,” Crowley breathed, tears of his own pooling in those amber eyes Aziraphale loved so much. “Angel, I’m so sorry.”

Sorry? No, that wasn’t right. Whatever did Crowley have to be sorry for? He’d done nothing wrong. He hadn’t been the one unable to protect his friend. He hadn’t been the one unable to bring them back together. He hadn’t been the one _stupid_ enough to fall for Gabriel’s trap.

“I was trapped down in Hell,” Crowley continued, the grip on Aziraphale’s hand tightening almost to the point where it was painful. “In a separate part of it, I guess you’d call it. A deeper part.” The angel watched as a shudder rushed through Crowley’s body. “Apparently our swap after Armageddon really got to them downstairs. They decided I was too risky to have randomly popping back up, so good ol’ Beelzebub had a bunch of seals put up to keep me out.”

He paused, pink tongue darting out to brush up against his lips. “It worked better than they expected. When I was discorporated - however that came about - I was supposed to show back up in the central part of Hell. But the wards kept me out, so the only place left for me to go was this...other part of Hell. One that I don’t think many of them even know about.”

Aziraphale couldn’t believe it. Crowley had been trapped down in Hell for...how long had it been? Eighty some years? With no way out? How truly terrible.

“How did you escape?” Aziraphale breathed, blue eyes wide, white-knuckled grip still on Crowley’s hand. If the seals used to keep Crowley out were the same as those used to keep Aziraphale in, there should have been no hope for them. But here they were. 

A single tear slid down the demon’s cheeks and Aziraphale found himself reaching up with a gentle thumb to brush it away. Beneath his touch, Crowley stiffened and Aziraphale tried to pull back, heart leaping in his chest at what he’d just done. _Stupid angel._ Why could he never learn? The sight of his demon in such pain hurt Aziraphale to his core. All he wanted to do was comfort this creature that had come to mean the absolute _world_ to him. Aziraphale hadn’t stopped to consider his actions. He hadn’t stopped to think about what Crowley might want. Hadn’t stopped to think that, of course, Crowley wouldn’t want _this._

Before he could fully pull away, muttering some sort of half-hearted apology for overstepping yet another boundary, he felt a surprisingly warm presence against the back of his hand. It took him nearly five whole seconds to register that it was Crowley’s hand against his own, trapping Aziraphale’s palm against the soft skin of his cheek. 

Blue eyes flickered over to the hands, fingers almost intertwined, then up to glittering amber eyes that were gazing down at him with warmth, and joy, and...

_Adoration._

Aziraphale froze, the breath completely leaving his lungs. No. That couldn’t be right. Why was Crowley looking at him with that glimmer in his eyes? That hint of a smile tugging upward at his lips? Why was Crowley looking at him like - almost like he - 

_Almost like he loved Aziraphale._

“You saved me, angel,” the demon whispered, his voice no louder than a breath of wind. “If it weren’t for you, I’d be a goner. I wouldn’t have been trapped in an endless maze of grungy hallways for the rest of eternity. I would have been erased completely.”

Blue eyes opened as wide as saucers. Had Aziraphale heard that right? _He_ had saved Crowley? How was that even possible? Up until a few days ago, the angel hadn’t even known his demon was still _alive_.

“I don’t - ” Aziraphale’s throat closed with emotion. The hand still resting on his lap began to tremble slightly, but the angel ignored it, pushing through his feelings in an attempt to get the words out. “I don’t understand.”

Crowley smiled, bright and clear and so sure. “It was you, Aziraphale,” the demon insisted. “You and your love and your _goodness_. I was trapped down there with a soul sucking monster. I ran and hid for as long as I could, but it wasn’t enough.” A pause, followed by a deep, shuddering breath. “They caught up to me, and I was so sure it was the end of everything. And then...well - ”

The demon broke off, a soft red color rising to his cheeks. Now it was Crowley’s turn to begin trembling, his fingertips shifting subtly against the back of Aziraphale’s hand. The angel waited patiently, practically on the edge of his seat as the demon in front of him fought with the words he wanted to say.

“I thought about you,” Crowley finally admitted, causing Aziraphale’s heart to flutter wildly in his chest. “I thought about you, angel, and everything you mean to me and everything you see in me and...I don’t know how to describe it.” The demon’s chest was heaving now, breaths coming in rapidly as amber eyes gazed over at Aziraphale’s face. “I was _filled_ with your light, angel. It poured out of me, out every crevice of my body. It banished the creature that had been chasing me. Allowed me to escape. It’s thanks to _you_ that I’m here today.”

A pause. A breath. Fingers intertwined, two hearts finally coming together to beat as one.

“_Thank you._”

Suddenly, it was all too much for Aziraphale. The memories of what he had done, all the demons he’d destroyed. The feeling of years upon years of loneliness, of slowly feeling his hope beginning to slip away. Of losing each and every person he’d ever come to care about. Every horrible thought, every moment of heartache, every word that had gone unsaid - not just for the past eighty years, but for every moment since he’d stood upon that wall, wing outstretched to shelter a demon from a storm.

His face crumpled as tears blocked his eyesight. Part of Aziraphale wanted to pull back, to run away from this overwhelming ache inside his chest and the emotions that were currently threatening to drown him where he sat. The other part of Aziraphale - the part that was screaming at him that his chance at happiness was _right here_ \- that part wanted to run to Crowley. To bury his face in the demon’s neck. To press his lips to Crowley’s and show him just how much he meant to Aziraphale. To wrap the demon in his arms and never let go.

But what if that wasn’t what Crowley wanted? What if their eighty year separation had reminded Crowley that he was better off without Aziraphale? What if Crowley thought this was what he wanted now and then found out about what Aziraphale had been up to before he’d been trapped in that cave?

What if he never wanted to see Aziraphale again?

“Angel, _please._” The desperation in Crowley’s voice, so reminiscent of that horrible memory of the cave, brought Aziraphale instantly back into the present moment. He was sitting on his couch in the bookshop, Crowley by his side. A hand lay pressed against the demon’s cheek, Crowley’s thin, wiry fingers practically laced with his own at this point. The demon was gazing at him with a deep sadness, laced with so much fear. It was an expression Aziraphale never wanted to see on Crowley’s face ever again. And to know that _he _had been the one to put it there?

Aziraphale would do anything to make things right again.

Before he could ask Crowley what was wrong, the demon was speaking again, his fingers clenching around Aziraphale’s like if he were to let go, the angel might just disappear once more. “Please, don’t hide from me. I couldn’t bear it. Not now. Not after all we’ve been through.”

A soft sob escaped the angel’s lips along with a single, ragged gasp. The first breath of air he had taken in several minutes. What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to believe that Crowley wanted him, that he _cared_ for Aziraphale? How was he supposed to hope that Crowley would still want him around, after everything?

Feelings came bubbling to the surface, less like a small splash in a pond and more like a geyser ripping out of the ocean floor. Aziraphale had exactly three seconds to register what was about to happen before they erupted inside of him, so strong, the angel realized with his stomach in his throat that he wouldn’t be able to hold them back any longer.

Fear overwhelmed him first - fear of rejection, of loss, of living out the rest of his existence completely alone. Then came the pain, the longing, the wishing and hoping that his life could be something different than it was. And once that washed away, once something else rose from the depths of his heart, once the warmth burst forth from his chest and filled his entire being, Aziraphale was left with only one thing. One thing he could not hold back any longer.

_Love._

“I love you.”

He said it without trumpets or fanfare. He said it without spotlight or eloquent poetry or a flourish of gifts or speeches ten miles long. He did not shout it from the mountaintops, did not whisper it in the darkness of the night. Aziraphale sat up straight, his palm still resting on Crowley’s cheek, and proclaimed those three words he’d held so close to his heart for so, so long. Those words he’d been so frightened to say, lest they lead to Crowley’s destruction. The words he’d been so scared to reveal, in case the demon didn’t feel the same way.

What a fool he had been.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale stated again, his blue eyes locked on orbs colored the brightest amber he’d ever seen. “Crowley, I love you.”

A smile, as bright as the sunlight shining in the demon’s eyes. A tear slipping down Crowley’s cheek, brushing up against the tip of Aziraphale’s thumb before sliding down the side of his hand, still in gentle contact with the demon’s cheek. There was no spark of fear in the angel’s heart this time. No glimmer of worry that he had done something wrong.

In all of his six thousand years on earth, he had never seen his best friend look so happy. The sight of it took his breath away.

And then they were kissing. There was no lead up. No awkward hesitation as they came together, like two stars, drawing each other in with the force of their gravitational pull alone. Lips met lips and the sensation was more wonderful than Aziraphale could have ever imagined it to be. Warmth spread outward from the center of his chest, flowing through his body like the flow of a gentle river’s current. He could feel a similar sensation washing up against him - Crowley’s love - burning sure and bright and true. It was ancient, as old as time itself, and Aziraphale found that this, _here_, was all that he had ever wanted. All that he ever had and ever would need.

His daydreams had never stood a chance.

Crowley deepened the kiss, bringing his other hand up to rest against Aziraphale’s cheek, thumb caressing the soft hairs hovering around the angel’s ear. Aziraphale shuddered, the sensations of the heat pulsing between their bodies and the tingle of electricity where their skin met becoming too much for him. Eventually, the angel had to pull away, looking up at Crowley through thick blonde eyelashes, searching for any sight or sign that the demon was disappointed with what had just passed between them.

He needn’t have worried. For reflected in Crowley’s eyes was the same joy, the same hope, the same love that Aziraphale felt pulsing within his very essence. A love that, in this moment, he knew for sure would never die.

A grin. Forehead resting against forehead as the rest of the world fell away around them and angel and demon were left alone, in peace, for the first time in a very long time.

“I love you too, angel. With all that I am. I’ve loved you from the beginning, Aziraphale. And I will love you until the very end. If you need something to believe in, believe in that. Believe in _me_.”

_I love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday, everyone!
> 
> I've been looking forward to writing this chapter for some time now. Things are slowly getting better for our angel and demon pair <3 We still have a few loose ends to tie up, but this story is definitely coming to an end. Two (maybe three) chapters and an epilogue to go.
> 
> Huge shout out to all of my wonderful readers :) I could not have done this without all your support. Thank you for your continued encouragement over the course of this whole journey. I hope you enjoyed this long awaited chapter!


	30. Chapter 27

The day was far too cold and dreary for the middle of summer, even by England’s standards, but Crowley supposed such weather was suitable for visiting a cemetery. Naturally, he could have snapped his fingers and miracled away the rain, but doing so would have undoubtedly upset Aziraphale. The angel had yet to use one in the several weeks since they’d been back. In fact, just the thought of either one of them utilizing their occult or ethereal powers seemed to chase Aziraphale away - seemed to send him back into that void of dark thoughts where Crowley could not follow. 

The demon still had no idea what had happened to his angel in the years he’d been gone. Aziraphale refused to talk about it. No matter how many times Crowley gently assured Aziraphale that he was here whenever the angel wanted to talk. No matter how many times Crowley took Aziraphale’s hand and sat in silence as the angel struggled with what to say, ultimately releasing a simple soft sigh and nothing more. 

It didn’t seem to matter. Nothing did. Crowley felt like Aziraphale was holding something back - hiding something from him. Maybe not on purpose. Maybe not to be cruel. But it was still there, that lingering feeling in the back of Crowley’s mind that told him something was still not right. 

They were standing side by side, huddled together underneath a wide black umbrella as the rain poured down around them, creating a waterfall of liquid before them that made reading the current headstone nearly impossible. It had been raining like this for nearly two days, pouring from the heavens as night fell, dark clouds obscuring the star-filled sky, only to lighten by morning into a comfortable yet somber drizzle. Crowley would never admit to believing in such nonsense as the weather having some sort of sentience to it, but it almost seemed like the cold London skies had known they were coming for some time now. They had set the scene perfectly. An angel and a demon, standing side by side, arm in arm in front of a tombstone. Too tired to properly mourn the friends they had lost. Too exhausted to shed anymore tears. Barely holding themselves together as they turned to face this unknown, unfamiliar world together.

_ Anathema Device-Pulsifer _

Out of all the people that had come together on that fateful day, Crowley supposed Book Girl was the one he would miss the most. In the six months he’d had on Earth after Armageddon had been thwarted, Crowley and Aziraphale had met up with the humans a handful of times. Pepper’s eleventh birthday party, a weekend gathering hosted by Anathema and Newton. Nothing overly special, but in that time the demon had gotten to know each one of them a little bit better. And even though he still couldn’t for the life of him remember which boy was Brian and which was Wesley - Wens - whatever his name was, Crowley found that he was saddened to learn they’d all passed on some time ago.

Aziraphale wasn’t sad. Aziraphale was much more than sad. Aziraphale was devastated. Of course he was. While Crowley had been fighting to escape from the confines of Hell, Aziraphale had spent a lifetime with these humans. He had watched them grow up. Watched them fall in love and get married and have families of their own. All from a distance, all wishing and hoping he might find that piece of him that had gone missing without a trace. 

They had been friends to him, when Crowley was not. Cared for him, when Crowley could not. He would be forever grateful to all of them.

“It’s alright, angel,” Crowley soothed, wrapping his spindly arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders. A thrill of energy sparked through him at the simple thought that this sort of touch was welcome. His heart thudded in his chest as Aziraphale leaned into the embrace, wrapping his free arm around Crowley’s waist as he held the umbrella aloft for them, making sure the demon was completely covered. Crowley smiled softly to himself. Always the gentleman. Even from the very first rainfall. “They were all good people. Especially this one.” He looked down at the name engraved upon the stone. “I can guarantee not a single one of them ended up with us. Not even Shadwell.”

Aziraphale chuckled at that. It was soft, and still a little sad, but it was something. The angel’s arm squeezed a bit tighter around Crowley’s waist. “I know, dearest.” _Dearest. _The name sent a thrill of energy up Crowley’ spine directly into his heart. He was Aziraphale’s dearest. After all this time, his one wish had finally come true. “I just can’t help but think of what a horrible friend I was to them in the years after you disappeared. They reached out to me in my time of need. They cared about me, and all I did was push them away.”

A sharp, ragged breath sounded in his ear and Crowley realized the angel was about to start crying again. The demon’s heart ached inside his chest as he turned to angle himself toward Aziraphale, placing a gentle hand across his cheek. Aziraphale smiled up at him with water filled eyes, trying desperately not to let the tears pour like the rain currently falling down all around them. 

“Oh, angel,” Crowley murmured, leaning in to place a soft kiss on Aziraphale’s forehead. He wanted to do more. Crowley wanted to press a kiss to Aziraphale’s lips. He wanted to snap his fingers and whisk the angel away back to the bookshop and do everything in his power to make Aziraphale forget about all that had happened, if only for a moment. He wanted to take the angel to dinner and maybe even a show at the West End. He wanted to hold Aziraphale’s hand and walk side by side with him through the park for all the world to see. He wanted to see the angel smile again. 

But Crowley could do none of that. Not right now. Not when Aziraphale was hurting. Not when Aziraphale needed him.

Slowly, the demon stroked his thumb across the impossibly soft and round cheek, pulling away to look down at those bright blue eyes, so full of sadness. “I’m sure they knew that you cared about them.”

This seemed to have the opposite effect on Aziraphale, causing tears to overflow and stream down both cheeks instead of that elusive smile that Crowley so desperately wanted to see. “You don’t un-understand,” the angel sniffed, drawing in deep, gasping breaths that didn’t seem to be doing anything to help him calm down. Without another word, Crowley reached over and took the umbrella from Aziraphale’s hand and with his free arm pulled the angel into a tight embrace. Gently, the demon rested his chin on Aziraphale’s shoulder and moved his hand up to brush against the soft blonde curls in what he hoped would be a soothing manner.

“I ignored them,” the angel cried, burying his face in Crowley’s neck. “They stopped by the bookshop and I turned them away. They sent me wedding invitations and birth announcements and funeral notifications and I didn’t go to any of them. I didn’t _respond_ to any of them. I was so focused on my own problems, I pretended like they didn’t even exist. I was so obsessed with - ”

Suddenly, Aziraphale cut himself off with a quick breath. Crowley was not necessarily an expert on emotion, but it sounded more like a breath of fear than one of sorrow. What was it that was really bothering Aziraphale? And why was he so afraid of talking to Crowley about it.

Should he confront Aziraphale about what was going on? Demand to be told what had happened? Crowley knew that his angel would feel better once he’d let it all out. But was it really his place? He may not have the details, but Crowley could tell that Aziraphale had been through something terrible during his absence. The last thing that he wanted to do was go too fast and push the angel away for good.

“Hey,” Crowley soothed, tilting Aziraphale’s face up so that their eyes met. “I’m right here. If you need to talk about it, angel, I’m here to listen. If you need someone to hold you, I can do that. All day, all night. As long as you like. If you need space, I - ” the demon’s voice died in his throat as a sudden wave of fear overtook him. Tears pooled in his eyes and Crowley quickly shut them, trying his best to force them away.

_ Damn.  _ Why was he reacting this way all of a sudden? Crowley was supposed to be strong now. Aziraphale _needed_ him, and here he was blubbering like a child. Sucking in a deep breath, the demon forced out the words that cut him to the core, hoping against hope that Aziraphale wouldn’t take him up on his offer. “If you need space, I can’t promise I’ll go far, but I can do my best to give that to you.”

“No!” Aziraphale almost shouted at him, hands flying up to catch Crowley’s within his own. The angel’s blue eyes were open wide, a hint of fear at their edges. “No, please Crowley. I don’t want that. I’d ask you to stay by my side for the rest of time if I thought - that is, if you - ”

Crowley took a half step forward and squeezed his angel’s hands. “I _do._” Truer words had never been spoken.

“You wouldn’t.” The proclamation was so soft, Crowley almost missed it. “Not if you knew what I’d done.”

What was he supposed to do? What words could he say to make this right? To make Aziraphale trust him? To make Aziraphale want to trust _in_ him? To tell him what had happened. No matter how horrible the events, Crowley wanted to know. He wanted to understand.

“There is nothing you could have done that would make me want to leave your side,” the demon insisted, hooking his finger underneath Aziraphale’s chin, gently guiding the angel’s face upward so they were forced to look at each other. “Compared to everything I’ve done? I was the direct cause of the first sin, you know. And yet you still love me. Whatever it is, Aziraphale, you won’t lose me. I swear it.”

“You don’t understand,” Aziraphale said again, his gaze lowering once more. So soft. So scared. Crowley’s heart clenched inside his chest. When the angel grew silent again, a soft sigh escaped the demon’s lips. How many times did he have to ask? And in how many different ways? Why couldn’t Crowley get through to him?

“Help me to understand.” A whisper. A heartfelt plea. And perhaps, even a prayer, spoken between the two of them. The two of them that had been placed on this earth together. That had faced all of history together. The two that had, against all odds, come to love each other in ways neither of them could ever have imagined standing on that wall all those centuries ago.

Aziraphale did not look up at him. He did not pull away. He didn’t move at all, except for the slight motion of his lips as the words finally came tumbling out.

“You don’t _understand_, Crowley.” How it was possible for words to carry such pain, Crowley would never understand. “You were _gone._ I couldn’t find you anywhere. I tried everything. _Everything_ to get you back. I asked Adam to miracle you back, but his powers were gone. I tried a summoning circle, but no matter what configuration I used, it couldn’t bring you here. The doors to Hell were closed and every demon I ran across claimed to know nothing about you. I asked,” he insisted, “I tried reasoning with them, but they refused to tell me.”

“And when none of it worked,” the angel broke off into a sob, a wave of fresh tears running down his face. It was all Crowley could do to cling to his angel and hope Aziraphale didn’t fall apart from all the sorrow currently washing out of him like waves against a rocky shore. “When I still couldn’t find you, I just grew so angry.”

For a moment, Crowley feared that was all Aziraphale was going to say on the matter. He was almost there. The angel had practically told him what was the matter. Even if he hadn’t said it all in words, Crowley was fairly certain he could piece together what had happened next. But that wasn’t the point. Crowley didn’t want Aziraphale to tell him what happened just for the sake of him knowing. He wanted his angel to trust him. Wholly. Completely. He wanted Aziraphale to trust in his affections - that they were not temporary. That they wouldn’t fade with time or with whatever Aziraphale did or didn’t do.

Crowley’s love was eternal. Unconditional. As old as creation and as sure as the stars were bright. Aziraphale didn’t have to fear it ever going away.

“I was so angry,” the angel continued, shuffling closer to Crowley, almost knocking the umbrella from both their grasps. Crowley didn’t remember Aziraphale reaching up to try and take the object back from him, but here he was, soft, strong hand wrapped around Crowley’s thin wiry one. Tingles of electricity shooting down the demon’s entire arm at the gentle contact. “They were up here with their...wiles - so much meaner and crueler than you ever were and I just couldn’t stand it. I tracked them down one by one. I cornered them, tried to force them to tell me what they knew. Of course, they didn’t know anything. How could they when you were - ? But how was I to know that? I had no way - ”

Aziraphale broke off then, one more time, blue eyes clenched tightly, his hand trembling even as it held Crowley’s within his own. The demon simply sighed and leaned down to place his forehead against Aziraphale’s, listening to the soft pitter-patter of the rain still falling from the sky, soaking into the ground around their feet. 

He knew now. Crowley finally understood. There was no need for his angel to say those words out loud. The evidence had been there all along - Aziraphale, trapped all alone, surrounded by shadows of darkness and anger and fear. The holy sword clenched in his fist had not been meant just for Crowley. No. it had been meant for any demon that walked the earth. Any demon that dared to show its face to the avenging angel and still refuse to help.

Crowley said nothing. What was there that could be said? No words could possibly describe to the being standing before him how much all of this _did not matter._ Crowley didn’t care if Aziraphale had destroyed ten demons or ten thousand demons. As far as he was concerned, they could all drown in a lake of holy water after what they’d tried to do to him after he’d bloody well saved the world.

He didn’t care that Aziraphale had destroyed demon after demon looking for a way back to him. He didn’t care that the angel had ripped apart the gates to hell. Didn’t care about any of it.

And so, Crowley said nothing. Instead he leaned down and brushed his lips against Aziraphale’s. Softly, at first, still so afraid he might scare the angel away. As Aziraphale leaned into him with a soft breath, Crowley’s hand reflexively let go of the useless piece of plastic it was holding onto and came up to join the other, cradling the angel’s face between his hands. In those moments, the demon held onto his angel like he was the most precious thing She had ever created.

As far as he was aware, Aziraphale was all of that and more.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley finally breathed, breaking the kiss, umbrella forgotten upside down on the ground by their feet. “_Angel_, I love you. Always have. Always will. This doesn’t change a single thing between us, I swear it.”

His words, however true they might be, did nothing to console the angel. Aziraphale’s face crumpled at the words and Crowley swiftly pulled the angel flush with his chest, a haphazard miracle rushing from his fingertips without another thought, banishing the raindrops that fell around them. It may be just water, but that was no reason to allow them both to get soaked for the fun of it.

“You don’t mean that!” the angel sobbed and Crowley felt a rush of heat and pain fill him at the same time. “You _can’t _mean that. Not after what I did. All the lives - ”

“No,” Crowley insisted, feeling a sudden overwhelming need for Aziraphale to understand, to _believe_ the words that spilled from his mouth. “Aziraphale, listen to me. I would have done the same thing - ” the demon broke off when his angel tried to pull away. Crowley lifted both hands to cradle Aziraphale’s face - gently, lovingly, but firmly forcing the angel to look at him. “If you had gone missing - if I thought those _bastards_ up in the silver city had you, I would have burned the entire place to the ground in order to find you.”

A look of fear and utter despair flashed through Aziraphale’s eyes and Crowley stopped, a sudden terrible thought coming to the forefront of his mind.

“Aziraphale…” the words hardly made any sound at all above the rain. The black umbrella lay forgotten at their feet, but Crowley’s miracle was still firmly in place. At the sound of his name, Aziraphale glanced down, trying to hide the way his hands were now trembling slightly as they came to rest against the demon’s narrow waist. “Aziraphale, who trapped you in that cave?”

The angel did not answer, but Crowley didn’t need him to. He already knew who was responsible. He’d known for a long time now.

“Was it Gabriel?”

Still, Aziraphale did not answer, but just like before, he didn’t need to. The feel of the angel’s hands gripping his waist tightly, as if anchoring himself to try and keep from falling apart - that was all the answer Crowley needed.

With a new fire in his eyes, Crowley’s jaw clenched as he pulled Aziraphale in close to him. Those _bastards_. What reason would they have to trap Aziraphale in that place all alone? Because he had gone a little stir-crazy and attacked some demons? What did Heaven care if Aziraphale went around destroying demons? Crowley would have assumed such a thing would have gotten his angel a commendation, not a life-time prison sentence. 

Crowley understood now. Hell may have been dealt with, but they would never be at peace until Heaven made the same vow to them both. A vow to finally leave them alone. To let them tend to the humans in whatever way they saw fit. A promise to turn their backs upon the odd pair and never bother them again.

Aziraphale needed closure. Aziraphale needed reassurance that this chance at happiness wasn’t about to be ripped out from under him. Aziraphale needed a promise that this life with Crowley was real and true and that he was surely forgiven by everyone in creation that actually mattered.

And come hell or high water, Crowley was going to give that to him. 

“Come on, angel,” the demon murmured, pressing a kiss to Aziraphale’s forehead. “It’s time to go set the record straight.”

Blue eyes flew open wide as the angel pulled back. “Surely, you don’t mean - ”

The demon simply grimaced, feeling a surge of warmth and protectiveness as his angel looked up at him, waiting to see what he might say next. _Someone,_ he would do anything for this marvelous creature who dared to so much as look at him with a hint of compassion. Absolutely _anything. _

“Oh,” Crowley breathed, a hardness creeping into his voice that hadn’t been there before. “That is exactly what I mean. What do you and I take a little stroll? Seems like Heaven is overdue for a little visit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay everyone <3 I can't tell you all how appreciative I am of your patience. I hope you enjoy! Only a few chapters left to go.


	31. Chapter 28

They marched hand in hand through the front doors of Heaven without a single moment of hesitation. Aziraphale’s fingers were linked with Crowley’s and he walked only half a step behind his demon, letting Crowley lead the way. Fear was alight in Aziraphale’s heart. Fear of retaliation for what he had done. Fear of admonishment for escaping his eternal prison. Fear of losing the one thing he cared for in the world. The one thing he’d searched all of creation to find.

What if this was a trap? The last time Aziraphale had tried to enter Heaven on his own, he'd been locked out. And now that Crowley was with him, the Archangels were simply letting them walk right in? Why would they do that unless they had something planned for the pair? What reason could they have to actually _want_ Crowley and Aziraphale to be here?

Softly, the angel shook his head. Things were going to be fine. They  _ were _ . Crowley would not have brought them both up here if he thought there would be any danger of permanent damage to either of them. They’d only just found each other, after all. Only just said all of the things that had gone on unsaid for so long. Crowley cherished Aziraphale, the angel knew that. He wouldn’t just throw everything away for a chance to rile up Gabriel and the others. Crowley was smarter than that.

Blue eyes gazed at the floor as they walked, listening to the echoing footsteps that followed them across the room. The lights above them burned brightly - brighter than the arid desert sun, but brought with them no warmth. It was cool up here, in the main hall - almost to the point of being cold. He tried his best not to shiver or show any other external sign of discomfort.

“How does it not…” Aziraphale trailed off, not sure exactly what to say. His blue eyes drifted first to the long, willowy fingers wrapped within his own, then down to the pristine white floor and the pair of black boots that were standing calmly atop it. Brief flashes of memory from centuries ago assaulted Aziraphale’s mind - memories of a church and a double-cross and a demon hopping around in great discomfort while he, once again, came to the rescue of an angel. “How does it not burn you?”

Crowley looked down and shrugged. “Wasn’t really a question I found myself caring enough about to answer, case someone realized their mistake.” He sniffed and looked around the empty room, filled with florescent lighting that seemed to bounce harshly off every surface nearby. “Not like there’s much holy about this place, anyway, is there?”

Before Aziraphale could say anything further, the door at the far end of the hall burst open and four very serious looking Archangels strode through. Gabriel was in the lead, striding forward with purpose, the other three directly on his heels. Violet eyes burned under the harsh white light around them and Aziraphale had the sudden urge to step back. To turn tail and flee. Head back to the bookshop, lock himself inside, and never come out again. Maybe if he promised to stay put, the Archangels might finally find it in their hearts to leave him alone.

He knew, deep down, it was wishful thinking. The Archangels would never let him be. Not now. Not ever. Not after everything he had done. 

A tight squeeze of his hand brought Aziraphale back to the present moment. Crowley stood tall and strong, his body positioned just a tiny bit forward from where Aziraphale was currently standing. The sunglasses were gone - Crowley hadn’t put them back on since the angel had come across him in the cave - and he was glaring over at Gabriel with a fierceness that Aziraphale had never seen before. 

“So,” Gabriel smirked, stopping to stand several feet in front of them. “The traitors have delivered themselves right to us. How very thoughtful of you.”

Crowley let out a snort and Aziraphale cringed. What was he doing? Was he trying to get them both  _ killed _ ? The demon seemed so confident, standing beside him. So sure that what they were doing right now would somehow have a positive outcome. The angel beside him was falling apart, by comparison. Aziraphale’s hands shook by his side. His heart was continually lodged in his throat, beating so hard it was nearly impossible to breathe. Not that the angel needed to, but he would certainly feel more at ease if he could manage it.

“Try again, bird brain,” Crowley taunted and Aziraphale nearly passed out.  _ Bird brain? _ He couldn’t call the Archangel Gabriel a ‘bird brain’. That would doom them both for sure. They’d never be able to go home now.

“You tried to punish us once,” the demon continued, his hand still firmly interwoven with Aziraphale’s. “Tried to have your partners down in Hell bathe me with holy water, didn’t you. But it didn’t work, did it? We told you to leave us alone, that we just wanted to live our lives in peace, but you didn’t listen. And look where that got us. Hell with a bunch of dead demons, and you with the two of us, still thorns in your side. Face it, Gabe. You can’t get rid of us. No matter how hard you try, we’ll just keep coming back, over and over again, until you finally agree to leave us be.”

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed, clearly not impressed with Crowley’s speech. Beside, him, Sandalphon grinned, his gold plated tooth shining underneath the florescent lighting. Aziraphale’s eyes darted over toward Uriel and Michael for a brief instant, but they looked more bored than anything else. 

“You disrespectful, loathsome creature,” the Archangel hissed, fists clenching by his sides. “I should simply smite you where you stand and be rid of you once and for all.”

From the corner of his eye, Crowley actually had the audacity to grin at that. “By all means, your  _ holiness, _ ” the demon replied, sweeping his arm out in a mock-bow. “Go right ahead. See how well that turns out for you.”

When Gabriel said nothing, Crowley took his silence as a sign to continue. “We haven’t delivered ourselves to your doorstep to accept our punishment, you overstuffed, self-righteous, pathetic excuse of an angel.” Another grin appeared on Crowley’s face as Gabriel’s brow furrowed. He was practically foaming at the mouth now, barely able to contain his rage and utter disgust for the pair of creatures standing before him. In any other circumstance, Aziraphale would have been terrified for his life, but here standing next to Crowley, he felt an inexplicable calmness come over him. Crowley was so confident, so sure that they would walk out of this confrontation alive. The angel had no way to know how, but he did know that he trusted the demon completely. 

“We’re here,” Crowley continued, his voice suddenly becoming very quiet, and yet it still echoed in the space around them, filling the room with intensity that made Aziraphale shudder. “To make sure that you don’t try to pull anything like this ever again. We’ve asked you to leave us both alone once, in what I would consider a rather nice way, given the circumstances. And now we’re going to ask you one last time.”

It was obvious that Gabriel didn’t believe them. Why would he? After all, according to Crowley’s report, he was the “Archangel Fucking Gabriel”. What reason would he have to mind the requests of two insignificant beings such as themselves? Especially when Aziraphale and Crowley had been nothing but a thorn in his side for centuries.

The calmness that had washed over Aziraphale disappeared in an instant as Gabriel lifted a hand and snapped his finger. Immediately, several figures materialized around them, coalescing out of dark shadows that had been created by the Archangel’s command. Inside him, Aziraphale’s stomach nearly turned itself inside out as he came face to face with not one, not two, but a dozen Crowley’s all dressed in black, with cropped red hair, and a pair of inky reflective sunglasses perched over their eyes.

_ No. Nonononono, not again. _ Aziraphale could feel the panic beginning to rise inside of him as his blue eyes flew open wide. He clutched at Crowley’s hand with enough force that it had to be extremely painful for the demon, but Aziraphale couldn't help himself. All of a sudden, he was right back in that nightmare. He was trapped in that cave, all alone with no way out. Crowley was gone from his life forever. Aziraphale would never see his beloved demon again.

“Take care of the demon first,” Gabriel’s voice echoed around him, although Aziraphale could no longer see the Archangel’s face. He was surrounded on all sides by cavernous walls made from rock and stone and sand. They were burning with the desert heat, pressing in on him from all sides. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t  _ think. _ Everything he’d ever loved was being ripped away from him and Aziraphale was powerless to stop it. “We can take care of the  _ angel _ once that abomination has been disposed of.”

Something inside of Aziraphale snapped. No. He would not allow this to happen. He would not allow Gabriel to take away the  _ one _ thing in his life that he still cared for.

“No!” Aziraphale’s voice rang out across the hall, echoing just as it had in the desert cave he’d been forced to reside in for thirty-some years. All at once, the walls pressing in on him vanished and he was standing in the cold, white halls of Heaven, Crowley by his side and a dozen phantom beings surrounding them, teeth bared, ready to strike.

Looking back, Aziraphale wasn’t sure he would ever be able to describe the chain of events that happened next. One moment, he was standing there hand in hand with Crowley, helpless against the four Archangels who wanted so desperately to tear them down, and the next, he felt a surge of anger and resentment and a fierce protectiveness and love coursing through him. The feeling sparked inside his chest and flowed outward through his entire body. From the center of his heart all the way down to the tips of his fingers, some of it even passing from his palm to Crowley’s as Aziraphale took a step forward to shield his beloved demon, flaming sword materializing in his free hand as he stood unafraid before those who wished to undo him.

“I won’t let you take him from me!” the Principality declared with all the God-given power he had been blessed with all those years ago. Shadows erupted from his entire form, dancing across his skin, lashing out like serpents at the figures that surrounded them. Aziraphale paid no attention to them, choosing to turn his cold blue gaze on the Archangel that stood just beyond. His violet gaze was no longer so triumphant, lips no longer curled into a smug smile. Gabriel wasn’t afraid, not yet, but he did look slightly worried.

It was a start.

Crowley moved to stand beside him and Aziraphale glanced over quickly. What was he thinking? This was no place for a demon? The angel should have never let Crowley come with him. What if the Archangels decided they’d had enough talking? What if they flooded the room with holy water? Crowley wouldn’t stand a chance. He’d be washed away forever. Never to be seen from again.

Aziraphale turned, with every intention of telling the demon to  _ stop being such a reckless daredevil _ , but stopped suddenly as his eyes made contact with Crowley’s form.

What he saw took his breath away completely.

The demon Crowley was enveloped in a bright golden light. It poured out of his eyes, in beams of light dancing across every exposed bit of skin. Standing so close to him, Aziraphale could feel its warmth. The light exuded peace and comfort. As the angel looked upon it, he felt an overwhelming sensation begin to fill every corner and crevice of himself.

Aziraphale was an angel. He was a creature built from love, a being that could sense love just as he could see the colors around him and hear the sounds of birds in the trees and ducks milling about on the pond. Even still, the feel of it nearly knocked Aziraphale off his feet. This love, this overwhelming, all consuming  _ love _ was the strongest he’d ever felt in all of creation. From the moment time began, until this very moment, Aziraphale could not remember another instance where he’d felt something so strong, so sure. So  _ perfect.  _ And so familiar.

This was  _ his _ love. And this was  _ Crowley’s  _ love. Mingled together inside of the demon’s body, flowing out from him in a wave of warm light that banished all the fear and doubt from Aziraphale’s mind. Crowley, his beloved demon, was here with him, fighting for a future where they could be at peace. Where they could live together, unafraid of retribution. Where they could be free to just  _ be. _

There, standing beside him in the midst of the place Aziraphale had once called home, in the midst of a place Aziraphale had never wanted to see again, Crowley stood unafraid in front of the four most powerful creatures Aziraphale had ever faced. He stared them all down, the golden light spilling from his skin in a display the likes of which the angel had never known.

It was the most beautiful thing Aziraphale had ever seen.

“This ends today.”

Crowley’s voice echoed across the walls as well, mixing together with the remnants of Aziraphale’s. The golden light pouring out from him flashed brightly, weaving its way into the shadows still exuding from Aziraphale’s form. Both angel and demon watched in awe as the two energies began to meld together, twining around each other. Golden light from Crowley spilled into the shadows around Aziraphale, illuminating deep hues of navy and plum, of forest green and the deepest burgundy. A gasp of air rushed through Aziraphale’s lungs as he looked from the coil of energy pulsing between them back up to the wide-eyed Archangels standing just a dozen or so feet away.

There was a moment where time seemed to stand still. All entities in the room, angel and demon alike, caught each other’s gaze as everything around them fell silent. Even Aziraphale’s heart, which had been beating thunderously in his ears up until that instant, stood still, as if one mere motion of it inside the angel’s chest might set off a cataclysmic event.

Before another word could be spoken, Aziraphale blinked and the energy coursing between them exploded in a silent force outward in all directions. It rushed through the air in a swirl of golden light, echos of multi-colored shadows in its midst. With each millisecond that went by, the blast grew brighter until Aziraphale was forced to look away. He felt Crowley’s hand tighten in his own and knew the demon was doing the same.

The silence permeated the air for what felt like an eternity before everything came to a head. Sound rushed back into the room, thudding up against the walls with such force that the entire room shook. Shattering glass could be heard all around and in an instant Aziraphale’s wings were out, tucking themselves around Crowley’s form, shielding him from whatever might be coming. The angel felt nothing, however, and after his hearing returned to normal, blue eyes peeked out through a halo of white feathers to find all of the phantom Crowleys had vanished. And there, laying sprawled on the floor surrounded by hundreds and hundreds of shattered windows, were four very dazed Archangels.

“Well, look at that,” Crowley’s voice mused from beside him. Aziraphale turned his head to face his demon, noticing that Crowley was not looking down at Gabriel and the rest like he’d originally thought, but was instead looking out the nearest shattered window. “Turns out this place has some warmth to it after all.”

Sure enough, his demon was right. With the glass around them completely obliterated, Aziraphale could actually feel a slight breeze against his skin. It was warm, and smelled faintly of lilacs and the distant onset of rain. Forgetting his current situation for a moment, Aziraphale smiled, a surge of love entering his heart and spreading down his arms and to his fingertips.

Crowley looked over at him, surprise etched into every line on his face. The golden light was gone now, as were the shadows that had momentarily taken over Aziraphale’s form. Side by side they stood, hand in hand, just as they had from the beginning. A soft smile slowly crept over the demon’s face and he took a step closer to Aziraphale, black wings that the angel hadn’t even noticed until this very moment, brushing up against his own.

“I love you, Aziraphale,” the demon announced, his gorgeous amber gaze trained on Aziraphale’s face. Tears pooled in the angel’s eyes, but for once, they were not accompanied by feelings of sorrow for what he had lost or fear for what was to come.

These were tears of joy.

“I love you too, my dearest,” Aziraphale responded, in full view of the Archangels, who were still sprawled out on the ground, only now finding the energy within to start righting themselves once more. What more did he have to fear from them? What more could Gabriel do to him when he and Crowley had already come this far?

The Archangels were silent as Crowley turned around, wrapping a thin, slender arm around Aziraphale’s waist and pulling him flush against the demon’s body. The angel gave a quick startled breath at the sudden contact and the way his heart did a joyful somersault inside of his chest. 

“I take it we’re good here.” The seriousness in his voice left no room for questions. Gabriel and the others simply stood in amazement, their clothes rumpled, hair blown wildly out of place, for those that had it. “Feel free to check with good ol’ Beelzebub if you don’t believe me, but I think you’ll find that Hell has made the right choice here. You would do well to follow their lead.”

Gabriel’s violet eyes closed for three extremely long seconds as the Archangel took in a deep, steadying breath. When he opened them again, he first fixed his gaze on Aziraphale, then allowed it to drift over to Crowley, an unreadable expression on his face.

It was Michael who finally stepped forward to respond. “You have our word. So long as you stay on Earth, we will leave both of you alone.”

Apparently that was not good enough for the demon. Crowley took a step forward, causing the four of them to flinch noticeably. “And you won’t try and start up Armageddon?”

Michael nodded their head fervently. “We will leave things be unless directed by the Almighty herself to change them.”

Crowley nodded his head, then narrowed his eyes ever so slightly as another thought crossed his mind. “And you’ll expedite any discorporation Aziraphale might come across. Accidents do happen, you know.”

“Yes,” Gabriel finally growled, violet eyes flashing in irritation and what might also be considered uneasiness. “Now will you  _ please _ just get out of here? We have business to attend to elsewhere.”

Seemingly satisfied, Crowley turned back to Aziraphale and gave him the widest smile the angel had ever seen. Without hesitation, Aziraphale returned it, lifting his arm to place around his love’s waist, pulling the both of them close once more. 

“Let’s go home, angel.”

_ Home _ . Aziraphale had never heard a more beautiful sound in all his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay, everyone! I hope the chapter was worth the wait!
> 
> I'm going to tell you now that the final two chapters for this story are going to have to slide a little. I'm travelling down to Disney World this weekend for the Princess Half Marathon event and may not be able to get as much done as I usually do. This story will definitely be completed by the end of next week (at the latest) but it may not be my usual Friday and Tuesday updates. If you follow me on twitter, I'll be sure to keep you updated there.
> 
> Thanks so much for all of the support you've given me over these past few months. I will be sorry to see this story end, but I'm excited to share its final moments with you, my loyal readers <3


	32. Chapter 29

“Aziraphale, just where exactly _are_ we going?”

Crowley glanced over at his angel’s face as he followed Aziraphale’s directions and turned off the M25, heading toward the southern coast of England. He kept the Bentley at a reasonable speed this time, for Aziraphale’s sake as well as his own. Even though Crowley was convinced that they’d finally seen the last of trouble from both Heaven and Hell, he was in no hurry to repeat his previous trip down there. No, he would err on the cautious side of things for a while anyway. The last thing the demon wanted was for one of them to be discorporated.

“Just keep driving, Crowley,” Aziraphale chuckled, one of his hands linked firmly in Crowley’s, fingers interwoven with his own. The demon felt a light squeeze and his heart gave a little flutter as a soft smile crept onto his face. “I’ll let you know when we get there.”

Begrudgingly, the demon fell silent. Normally, he would have pestered Aziraphale to no end in order to figure out where they might be headed. It wasn’t like the angel to keep secrets from him, and Crowley was nosy by nature. Something held him back this time. Aziraphale seemed...excited. It was a nervous sort of excitement - one that Crowley could sense in the slight tremble of his hand and the way his brow furrowed slightly above his sky blue eyes. 

There was no doubt about it, his angel was happy. Happier than he had been in weeks, and as curious as he might be, Crowley wasn’t about to do anything to spoil that. He could wait as long as he needed to for Aziraphale to explain what was going on. For now, it was enough to have the angel here with him, holding his hand as they slowly drove away from the London bookshop and into the countryside.

Most of the drive was made in silence. Crowley turned his attention to the road, slowly watching as the trees passed by, growing more and more in number as time went on. Music flittered around his ears - sounds of bright strings and whimsical woodwinds. He’d let Aziraphale choose the music this time and the Bentley seemed to like the classical selection well enough not to change it to anything remotely related to Queen.

Although, come to think of it, the Bentley hadn’t had much to say about his musical selections since Adam had reformed it after Armageddon. Sure, every once in a while Crowley would turn on some jazz from the late 1920s or 1930s and be met with a track from “The Best of Queen” instead, but most of the time the car let him listen to whatever he wanted. Especially when Aziraphale was a passenger. 

“Take this next turn, dearest,” Aziraphale murmured, gesturing to his left. Crowley obeyed the instructions immediately, pulling off the main road onto one much smaller and a bit more winding. After a few more minutes, the angel gestured again and Crowley pulled off onto a dirt path, surrounded by tall trees just beginning to turn from green to some of autumn’s vibrant colors.

“Aziraphale,” the demon asked again as they jostled their way down the makeshift road. “Honestly, I don’t see what you could possibly want to show me all the way out here in the middle of nowhere. If you wanted to go somewhere private for the afternoon, there are plenty of places much - ”

And then the trees cleared and Crowley’s voice caught in his throat. There in front of him, just a little ways up the drive, was the most picturesque cottage he had ever seen. It looked like something out of a catalogue, or a movie even - with light gray stonework and rust-red shutters. A great big yard filled with lush green grass and the occasional tall tree to cast a wide arch of shade in the summertime heat. There was even ivy climbing up part of the front and side of the house with little white flowers scattered amongst the green leaves.

“Angel,” Crowley managed to croak out, his amber eyes sweeping over the cozy home, finally coming to rest on the crisp white ‘for sale’ sign resting on the bright green front lawn. “What is this? Where are we?”

“Crowley, my dear,” Aziraphale began, turning his body to face the demon beside him. Crowley instantly put the car in park so that he, too, could face his angel without fear of the vehicle rolling off in a direction he did not want it to go. “While I have loved every moment of having you back on Earth with me, it may come as no surprise to you that London, and the bookshop, still hold many tainted memories for me.” The angel took a deep breath, as if steadying himself, and then continued on, blue eyes locked on Crowley’s face. 

“I’ve been thinking a lot lately on the subject, and came to the conclusion that it might be best for me to leave the city for a while. A few decades to start with, just to get a change of pace. I found this lovely little cottage out here and, well, I thought it might be a nice place to get away for a while. Don’t you think?”

The demon was completely taken aback. Aziraphale wanted to leave London? He wanted to leave his bookshop and come live...here? In the middle of nowhere? Aziraphale loved his bookshop. He’d worked so hard on it for hundreds of years, fought so hard to keep it whenever the Archangels made a fuss. And now, he just wanted to leave? To come all the way out here, by himself?

“Sure, angel,” Crowley immediately agreed, not wanting to be seen as anything other than completely supportive of Aziraphale’s decision. He forced down the disappointment welling up inside of him. It would not do to dwell on that now. Not when Aziraphale so obviously needed his statement of approval. “Whatever you need, yeah? It is a lovely place you’ve picked out. The garden could use a little work,” he mused, amber eyes raking over the collection of weeds intermixed with all the flowers well past their bloom. “But I’m sure those plants won’t give you too much trouble, if they know what’s good for them.”

Aziraphale smiled, and for a moment Crowley thought there was something else to it. A touch of worry. A hint of sadness. Whatever did Aziraphale have to be worried about? What reason did he have to be sad? It sounded like the angel had done a lot of thinking prior to making this choice. Shouldn’t he be excited about starting over, especially in a place as lovely as this?

“I - well, I was wondering,” the angel began, averting his eyes for the first time. His grip tightened on Crowley’s hand just a little bit as the words continued to tumble from his lips. “Hoping, rather, that you might find the desire within yourself to perhaps stay here with me?”

Amber eyes flew open wide. Aziraphale wanted him to _stay_? Permanently? The demon’s heart leapt inside his chest. Tears pricked at his eyes and he hastily blinked them away, aware that if Aziraphale chose to look up at him in that moment, he would see just how touched Crowley truly was. He had no glasses to hide behind now. The demon had done away with them out in the Arabian desert and refused to put them back on. Not after what Aziraphale had been forced to endure. 

“You don’t have to, of course,” the angel was backtracking now, pulling his hand away from Crowley’s as they came together in a nervous bundle of clenched fists upon his lap. “I know this sort of place really isn’t your scene, as it were. You are more than welcome to keep your flat in London and miracle yourself over whenever you like. Or, if you really rather I stay in London, I could do that. I haven’t exactly bought the place yet and - ”

“Angel,” Crowley interrupted, not even trying to hide the crack in his voice as it broke with emotion. “Aziraphale,” he reached out and took the angel’s hand in his once more, amber eyes seeking out the bright blue. “This right here? This is all I’ve ever wanted. For as long as I can remember. All I’ve wanted was to have a place in your life. To have a _home_ with you. It doesn’t matter to me if it’s in the heart of a bustling city or up in the mountains or by the sea. As long as it’s with you - as long as _I’m _with you, that is all that matters to me.”

A bright smile appeared on Aziraphale’s face and Crowley couldn’t help himself. He leaned over the center console and pressed a kiss to the angel’s lips, relishing the sound of the sharp intake of breath that accompanied the hum of pleasant surprise coming from Aziraphale’s direction. He could sit here for hours alone in this car with his angel, doing nothing but kissing him and running his fingers through those soft blonde curls and telling the marvelous creature just how much he was loved and cared for, but Crowley had a feeling that there was something else his angel wanted to do in that moment. All those things could wait for another time.

“Oh,” Aziraphale rushed as they pulled apart, sounding quite out of breath from such a simple act. Crowley tried to hold back his grin. “How wonderful! It means so very much to me, dearest.”

The demon simply smiled, raising a hand to brush that soft round cheek once before kissing Aziraphale lightly once more. “Of course, angel.” Slowly, he lowered his hand and reached for the car door handle. “Ready to give me the grand tour?”

A second after stepping out into the open, Crowley’s senses were hit with the most unique and tantalizing combinations of scents he had ever run across. This place smelled like a forest after the first spring’s rainfall. It smelled of lavender and honeysuckle and the sharp tang of salty ocean waves. He could hear them crashing against some far off shore, the sound drifting toward them on the gentle autumn breeze.

It was paradise. Crowley hadn’t even stepped inside and he knew that this place - this cottage - was sure to be the most perfect place on the entire Earth. Once he took a step inside, the demon knew he would never want to leave. 

As Aziraphale walked him through the building, Crowley’s suspicions grew even more true. The cottage was like nothing he claimed to enjoy in life. It was the furthest thing from modern and minimal that could possibly exist and yet, he loved it. He loved the rustic wooden floors, all the built-in shelves that would house Aziraphale’s books. He loved the outdated kitchen that they would probably never use. He loved the screened in back porch and the wild growth of plants that had begun to overtake the backyard. He loved it all. 

“So,” Aziraphale started as the pair stood in the center of the sitting room. There was no furniture at the moment, but Crowley was certain that could be easily remedied. A comfortable couch and perhaps a chair or two would be all they really needed. He would even let Aziraphale pick out what type he wanted - Crowley would be happy to give Aziraphale anything the angel’s heart desired. After all, he had already given Crowley everything. “What do you think?”

Crowley simply smiled, reaching his arm out to wrap around the angel’s wider waist, drawing him closer. A hand came up to rest on Aziraphale’s cheek and Crowley leaned down to kiss him lightly, trying his best to ignore the wild fluttering of his heart in his chest and how perfectly and utterly _happy_ it made him feel.

“It’s perfect, angel,” the demon murmured, pulling back to brush a light kiss across the angel’s hairline. “I have just one request.”

Even though all he could see was the outline of Aziraphale’s white-blonde hair, Crowley could feel his angel smile against the skin of his neck. “Name it and it shall be yours.”

Crowley’s heart filled with love. He had no idea what he had done to deserve such an amazing creature, but he wasn’t about to say anything out loud, in case somebody realized a mistake had been made. 

“Let’s walk down to the shore together,” the demon suggested, holding out his arm for Aziraphale to take. “It is a rather lovely day, and I’d love to survey the land of our new home a bit.”

Aziraphale simply beamed up at him, causing Crowley’s heart to do that annoying yet wonderful somersault-fluttering thing inside his chest. Arm in arm they walked across the back yard, through a winding path in the woods until they came out on the other side. When the trees cleared and Crowley could finally see with his own two demonic eyes what lay before them, he stopped abruptly in his tracks, breath catching in his throat.

They’d reached the edge of the world, he was sure of it. Here, the earth stopped and forever stretched out before them. Thousands upon thousands upon thousands of uninterrupted, vast expanses of water. Untainted, undisturbed, as pure as the day they were first created.

He’d seen the ocean before. Of course, Crowley had seen it - hundreds of times, in fact. But there was something different this time. There was something about being here, with the love of his life, looking out over their own little corner of Earth that made the demon feel like it was something far greater than he’d ever thought possible. That this place was no longer just a simple man-made cottage in the South Downs, but their own little piece of what Heaven should have been all along. 

“Are you alright, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked quietly, sliding his hand down from Crowley’s elbow where it had previously been resting, to his hand. Without another word, the angel intertwined their fingers and took a step closer so their shoulders were pressing into each other with a comfortable pressure. Reminding them both that they were here. They were safe. They were _home._

“Yeah, angel,” the demon replied, giving the hand a gentle squeeze beside him as they watched the waves lap up against the cliffside. The wind blew up from the south, tossing the salty air right into Crowley’s face. He drank it in, loving the way the ocean spray tickled the skin of his cheeks. Wishing he could simply unfurl his wings and take to the sky, flying up into their deep blue expanse - the same shade of the angel eyes he loved so much - and be forever lost to these new and strange and _wonderful_ feelings that continued to bubble up inside his chest whenever he thought about the fact that Aziraphale liked him. That Aziraphale loved him. That Aziraphale _wanted_ him.

“It’s perfect. Couldn't have dreamed up a better place if I tried.”

They stood there, side by side, on that cliff for some time. Only after the last light of the sun had faded from view and the stars had erupted in brilliance across the sky like Crowley knew they would, did the pair turn back and make their way toward the Bentley once more. Silently, they climbed back in the car, turned on the radio, which had decided that “Our House” by Crosby Stills and Nash would be an appropriate song choice for the evening, and drove away. The last flash of the headlights illuminating the pristine white sign that now read “SOLD” in big, bold letters right across the top.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Tuesday everyone! I hope you all enjoyed this sweet scene between our favorite angel and demon pair. Just one more update to go and this story will be complete. It's been a wild ride and I can't thank you enough for all of your support!
> 
> See you on Friday for the final installment :)


	33. Epilogue

“Crowley, dearest,” Aziraphale called from his position in the doorway of their new home. “Please do be careful with those. You can take multiple trips, if you like.”

The angel cringed slightly as the door to the Bentley thudded shut and his demon sauntered around to the other side, carrying a stack of boxes reaching several feet over his head. They teetered dangerously from one side to another, but managed to stay upright, likely with the use of a small demonic miracle. “Nonsense, angel,” the muffled voice sounded from the other side of the cardboard pillar. “No need to waste all that time walking back and forth to the car when we could be unpacking all these books instead.”

“Really, love,” the angel tutted, wishing very much that he could reach forward and wring his hands together as his stomach clenched nervously within him. Unfortunately for Aziraphale, both his hands were rather occupied with his own pile of boxes, precisely two high, currently cradled in his arms. “I would feel much less nervous if you didn’t carry all those at once. There are some priceless first editions in the second box from the top that I would absolutely hate to have them damaged in a tumble.”

Crowley peeked his head around the side of the boxes, coming to a halt in the center of the paved walkway leading to the front door. His amber eyes sparkled in the sunlight, a crinkle at the corner as he grinned amusingly at the angel standing before him. Aziraphale felt his heart give a gentle flutter in his chest as he looked over at the demon - his demon - smiling over at him so unabashedly. So freely and unafraid. The sight of it brought tears to the angel’s eyes.

“You know,” Crowley teased, squatting down to place the tower of boxes safely on the ground, before reaching out to slide the top two boxes from the stack, making sure the rest of it was not going to fall over before he took a step closer to the angel. “We could just snap our fingers and have this entire process over with. Leaves plenty of time for unwinding. A drive into town for a nice dinner at that Italian place you spotted. Maybe a bottle or two or five of rich red wine.”

He stepped in closer, Aziraphale’s bright blue eyes fixed on him the whole time. The angel felt his heart stutter to a halt in his chest as Crowley brushed his lips up against his cheek in a chaste kiss. For a moment, Aziraphale allowed himself to linger there in the moment, basking in the love that flowed between them and the warmth of the autumn sun, contrasting with the cool breeze that drifted through the dappled trees surrounding them. After all that they had been through, he still found it hard to believe that this was real sometimes. That Crowley was here, that they were safe from Heaven and from Hell. That they were together, and always would be. Until the Earth made its final turn.

“Mummy! Hurry up. They’re here!”

Abruptly, the angel’s peaceful moment was shattered as a small yet boisterous voice sounded down the drive. Aziraphale took a step to the side and turned his attention in that direction, blue eyes falling on a small form running up toward them.

A child. Aziraphale blinked in surprise. A human child was making her way down the drive toward them, stopping every so often to urge her mother forward, who was following at a much steadier pace. 

“Oh?” Crowley started, immediately putting the boxes down to take a step forward toward the girl. Aziraphale had no concept of the girl’s age. She hovered around waist height on Crowley, dressed in black leggings, brown boots and a floral patterned fleece jacket. Her hair was done up in pigtails, sticking out wildly on either side, and she had a massive grin adorning her face that revealed two gaping holes where some of her teeth used to be.

“Who do we have here?”

If it was even possible, Aziraphale watched as the girl grinned even wider. “Hi!” she practically shouted as she leaned her head back to look up at the demon looming over her. “I’m Madeleine. And that’s my momma. We live in the house just that way through the woods.” She stopped and pointed off to her left, through a thick grove of trees that was impossible to see all the way through, even for an angel with his level of sight. 

“We brought brownies!” The girl announced proudly, turning to wave her mother over again, hand flailing rapidly in the air.

“Brownies?” Aziraphale asked, puzzled. Who exactly were these humans? And why had they brought gifts for two total strangers?

“As a gift,” the girl’s mother explained as she finally joined up with her daughter and Crowley, pausing to shift the foil-wrapped pan from one hand to the other. Gently, she reached up to tuck a strand of dark hair behind one ear, fixing her gaze on the angel still standing a little off to the side. “To welcome you both to our little corner of paradise.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of Aziraphale’s lips as he took in the pair. It had been a long time since he had conversed with a human. The angel had forgotten how kind and considerate they could be.

“My name is Emma Harris,” the woman greeted, extending her hand to Crowley who took it immediately, still grinning down at the little girl hovering by his feet. “And you’ve already met my daughter Madeleine.”

“Anthony Crowley,” the demon responded with like enthusiasm, his coppery hair fluttering softly with the breeze. “And this is my - ”

Suddenly, Crowley stopped and turned around, dropping the woman’s hand as he did so. His snake-like eyes came to rest on Aziraphale’s face and in them the angel saw a measure of uncertainty. A hesitation that he found he did not like one bit.

With one swift motion, Aziraphale placed his armful of boxes on the ground and moved to stand beside his demon, reaching out a hand to greet both humans just as he’d seen Crowley do moments before, blue eyes twinkling with a soft excitement.

“I’m his husband, Azira.”

To his credit, Crowley remained his cool, collected self, not displaying a hint of surprise at the angel’s declaration. For that, Aziraphale was thankful. It wasn’t like he had planned on lying to the humans. That wasn’t it at all. Aziraphale knew that he and Crowley were beyond human customs such as marriage, but it had seemed an appropriate title in the moment. And, if he were being honest with himself, this wasn’t the first time the angel had entertained that idea in his mind. How could he not want to proclaim to the world that this beautiful creature was his, for all of eternity? After everything Crowley had gone through to get back to his side, Aziraphale wanted everyone to know that he would do the very same.

“Would you two like to come in for a cup of tea?” he asked, abruptly changing the subject after a moment of silence passed between them. “Or perhaps some hot cocoa? I know we’re still in the middle of unpacking, so things may be a bit of a mess, but you’d be more than welcome.”

Emma held up a hand in protest. “Oh no. That’s very thoughtful of you, but I wouldn’t want to impose. We just wanted to drop by and introduce ourselves and pass along this small welcome present.” She smiled, handing off the tray of dessert to Aziraphale, who gladly took them. “Perhaps the two of you could swing by sometime this weekend for lunch. Or perhaps we could meet in town for dinner. Whatever you like.”

Aziraphale nodded his head in thanks, promising that they would indeed be meeting up again very soon. He watched with a gentle wave of his hand as Emma took hold of her daughter’s hand and began walking her back down the road. Smiling to himself, the angel turned to place the divine smelling desserts down on his pile of boxes, heart still filled with warmth at the kind and thoughtful thing these humans had just given him - given them both, really - without even realizing it.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley finally managed to choke out when they were alone once more, the retreating backs of their new neighbors disappearing around the bend. “Angel, I - ”

“Oh,” the angel tutted, turning to face his beloved once more, the heat rising to his cheeks as he finally realized the effect what he’d said earlier had on Crowley. He’d gone and ruined things with his carelessness. Once again, Aziraphale had allowed his words to take control and he’d said something to upset the person he cared about most in all of the world. “I’m awfully sorry, dearest. It just seemed like the right thing to say at the time. I know as an angel and a demon, we’re above such labels, but it just seemed easier to tell her that instead of some other version of the truth. I do hope you can forgive me.”

Crowley blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. Clearly unable to voice whatever was on his mind. Feeling his heart begin to thud wildly against his chest, Aziraphale took a deep breath and stepped forward, closing the distance between them. 

“Dearest,” he began, hating the way the words wanted to stick in his throat. Wishing he could just turn away and forget this, but knowing that it was his turn to be brave for once. Gently, he took the demon’s hands in his, lightly tracing his thumb over the skin of Crowley’s left ring finger. “You know that I love you. And I would do anything to make you happy, Crowley. But it would be a lie for me to say that this was the first time I’d thought about you in this way and I - ”

He broke off as his throat closed around the next words bubbling up from within him. Aziraphale took another breath and forced himself to look into those amber eyes he loved so much. As he did so, the angel saw reflected back at him more adoration and love than he could have ever imagined. For a moment, even though he didn’t need to, Aziraphale forgot to breathe, forgot to think. Forgot anything else existed but those gorgeous eyes and the wonderful creature that they belonged to.

“It would mean so very much to me, my love, if you would consider being my husband. Or my wife, if that was the configuration you so chose. I’d love you in any form, my dear. Any style - it doesn’t matter to me. All I want is the chance to call you mine. Now and for the rest of forever. If you’ll allow it.”

“Yes,” Crowley breathed, tears shining in his eyes, not giving Aziraphale the chance to say a single thing more. “Dear Someone, yes Aziraphale. A million times yes.”

“Oh,” The angel was speechless for a moment. Whatever he had been expecting, this was not it. His heart erupted inside his chest, filling his entire body with a lightness he hadn’t experienced in - well, he couldn’t ever remember feeling like this. So...happy. So content. So free. “Well, isn’t that just Tickety-Boo.”

Crowley laughed. Really laughed, from the deepest part of his gut, filling out the full expanse of his chest until it escaped from his throat and out into the beautiful autumn air around them. “Get over here and kiss me, you marvelous bastard.”

Aziraphale obliged, reaching out to take Crowley’s hand in his. Gently, lovingly, he leaned forward and slotted their lips together in a way he had once only dreamed of. Blue eyes fluttered shut as a gentle sigh escaped him, and for the first time in a very long time, the angel lifted his free hand to perform a miracle.

It was a small miracle, as far as miracles went. Hardly worth noticing, really. One moment, two bare hands were clasped together, holding on to each other like they might never let go. The next, a pair of intricately carved golden bands adorned their fingers, one on each of their clasped hands, glinting brightly in the autumn sunlight. It was a small miracle, by all accounts. One that gave them nothing more than a pair of metal trinkets and a title that was more human than it was ethereal or occult in nature. 

A small miracle, maybe, but one that meant absolutely everything to the pair that had received it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say that it has been an honor and a privilege to work on this story. It has been an effort of love over the past several months and I have enjoyed each and every moment of this journey. Thank you, dear readers, for taking it with me. Whether you've been here since the beginning or are just now reaching the end many months after I post this epilogue, I want you to know I appreciate your time and your enthusiasm.
> 
> If you haven't already, I ask that you please go take a look at the wonderful comic that inspired this story. You can find it here:
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/19926673/chapters/47182546
> 
> If you have the time, please don't forget to give Lei_sam some love! She was an integral part of bringing this story to life (I sent her every chapter for review before sharing it with you all) and her artwork is truly spectacular. Collaborating with her has been the most fun I've had in a very long time, and luckily for you all, I don't think we plan to stop working together for a very long time.
> 
> Feel free to check out some of my other works. I've got a lot out there and plan to add more in the coming months. If you'd like to stay up to date on what projects I've got going on, feel free to follow me on Tumblr or Twitter. And, as always, don't hesitate to come say hello! I love meeting new people from all walks of life and I guarantee I will be thrilled to talk to you :)
> 
> tumblr: https://braver-stronger-smarter.tumblr.com/  
twitter: https://twitter.com/beckers522
> 
> That's all for now, everyone :) I hope you liked this story and it brought you some joy over the time you've read it. Feel free to drop a comment and let me know what you thought (I absolutely live for those) and I hope to be seeing you around!
> 
> All my love,  
Beckers


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